


I'm the poison in your bones

by SunlitGarden



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dark, Dark Betty Cooper, Dom Betty Cooper, Dom/sub Undertones, Eventual Smut, F/M, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Masturbation, Sexy, Sexy Times, Webcam/Video Chat Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-05-26 12:36:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 37,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15001028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunlitGarden/pseuds/SunlitGarden
Summary: Betty Cooper feels like everything is spinning out of control post-Jughead and post-Black Hood, but her newfound brother Chic introduces her to the dark world of seduction, and something feels just a little bit better. Fill the void, he says...and she will.





	1. Are any of us innocent?

**Author's Note:**

> This fic starts amidst Season 2, Episode 12, The Wicked and The Divine.

It was just a matter of time, she thinks dully. Her heart feels like it’s been ripped out in the Blue and Gold room, as Jughead asks, “Have you done…anything…with anyone…since we broke up?”

“No,” she says, arms knit tight against her chest, willing herself not to fall apart.

“Oh. Yeah,” he shifts, uncomfortable. But the relief is clear on his face. She wants to slap it right off for jumping right into something with Toni when she was falling apart.

_But that’s his right,_ she reminds herself bitterly, nails edging against her palms.

There’s nothing else, just an awkward, “Again, I’m sorry for getting you involved. Seems kinda inevitable, huh?” His soft laugh elicits a sharp grind of her teeth. “I break up with you so you won’t get involved with the Serpents, and here we are, starting a civil war.”

She waits for more. Another apology, another mission...anything to fill this gaping hole in her life now that she has no boyfriend and no paper to go to. It's like her emotional anchors have cut loose and run. Even Archie and Veronica have been on edge around her lately.

“I can take care of myself, Jug,” she says firmly. _I’ve had to._

A brief smile graces his face, softening the dark circles under his eyes. She knows he’s still trying to do everything on his own. According to him, he couldn’t be with her and the Serpents. He made his choice. Why did she think he’d try to come back? He won’t _let_ her in, and she’s done trying to force it. “See you, Coop.” Ducking his head, he pauses just before the door. Afraid the glassy-eyed despair building within her will be visible, she doesn’t turn to him. He leaves without another word.

 

* * *

 

The chorus of locker combinations and moving bodies makes Betty feel a little light-headed. But she can get through it today. She has to.

A certain low, sardonic voice catches her ear. “I talked to Betty today.”

Somewhat impassive, Archie replies, “Yeah? How’d it go?”

Betty stills in anticipation. This is every investigative reporter’s dream…to hear what people say when they don’t think you’re listening.

“Great. Fine. I told her about Toni.”

“Oh, god, the Serpent?” Archie protests.

“Easy,” Jughead warns, “Betty said she saw us at Pop’s one morning.”

Archie pauses, taking a deep breath. “Yeah. I was there. What were you thinking, Jug?”

“I was in a dark place. But Toni’s a really great girl.”

Her fingers tighten on her books, leaning her back against the cold steel of lockers around the corner.

“So why aren’t you with her then?”

“It’s…complicated. We don’t feel that way about each other. We’re friends.”

“Like me and Betty? Or like something else?” She tenses, remembering their Christmas adrenaline-fueled kiss. She had lost _everyone_. Her family, yet again, had sewn the seeds of discord and madness in her blood.

“It was a one-time thing, a PG-13 grope-fest, she said,” Jughead sighs, brushing it off. Archie hisses in sympathy. “I wasn’t over Betty at the time, and Toni was there for me.”

_I was there for you, Jug,_ she thinks bitterly, letting tears cloud her vision, watching them in the corner mirror.

“Yeah but did you have to be _in_ her at the time?”

Jughead stifles a depressed laugh. “We didn’t get that far. Apparently I REALLY wasn’t over Betty yet, and being beaten to a bloody pulp doesn’t exactly instigate romance.”

“Couldn’t get it up, huh?”

_Oh my god._ Betty turns her head against the mental image. _Why are you doing this to yourself? Just leave._

“Geez, Archie, is nothing sacred to you anymore?”

“At least I didn’t beat the shit out of you, and neither did Betty.”

There’s a pause, Jughead glaring at Archie incredulously.

“No, you just _broke up with me_.”

“Hey man, you know it was the Black Hood. We were trying to save your life.” They don’t say anything for a moment, resentment still bubbling between them. “So…why aren’t you together now?” Archie asks testily, shoving aside his other concerns.

Jughead's voice drops low. “I can’t…I don’t know. Betty…”

“Loves you, Jug. I can’t believe you turned that away. We’ve been friends for a long time, man. Betty has always been there for you. I’ve always been there for you. Lately it feels like all you want to do is start a war.”

“Well _excuse me_ for not feeling like getting a milkshake and going to a sock hop while Riverdale is torn apart by prejudice!”

“You said you weren’t going to join them, Jug. But you did. You left Riverdale, you joined a gang, you abandoned your friends, and that includes Betty! But we're still here for you, man. Yeah, there’s gonna be a few bumps in the road-”

“And Betty doesn’t need to be another casualty.”

“Look-if you're not going to appreciate…" Archie breaks off, sighing, irritated. "She tried to join the Serpents for you, Jug. Pure, innocent Betty... _stripped_...for you and all your friends, just so she could be close to you!”

Jughead scowls, turning away.

_Did I humiliate him that much?_

“You should have seen her that night, Jug. She was…” Archie sighs, conflicted. She remembers his awed expression through the window. She was no longer the girl next door…she was someone he _wanted_.

“Amazing,” Archie decides, just as Jughead says, “Crazy.”

The word hits her like a knife. Her family is crazy. He knows that.

_He knows what you are._

Her nails itch to bury themselves into her palms.

Folding his arms, head down, Jughead leans against the lockers. “There’s no doubt Betty’s a babe, but she’s better off staying innocent.”

“I don’t know, Jug. Are any of us innocent anymore?”

“She is,” Jughead confirms. “I just…talked to her in the room. If she hasn’t been with anyone since our…” He tugs his beanie tightly down over his ears.

“Dude, what? You asked her if she’s slept with anyone?!”

“She started it!” he scratches he back of his head. “She said there hasn’t been anyone else, by the way.” He notes Archie’s uncomfortable silence. “Have you heard otherwise?”

“Um…no,” Archie finishes, eyeing Jughead quietly. As if to break the silence, he closes his locker and keeps moving. “Why didn’t you two ever seal the deal?”

“We were interrupted. Her mom. The Serpents. You name it, we got it. It was like an act of God that Betty Cooper remain as pure as the driven snow, just stay the girl-next-door.”

That nearly takes the breath out of her, her eyes glossy. Betty knocks her head against the locker behind her. Her reflection…the big-eyed girl next door in a brown sweater and high ponytail. She always thought they could see beyond that.

Online, though, Chic says she can be anyone she wants.

 

* * *

 The session doesn’t make her feel any better. Watching some guy jerk himself off to her mask doesn’t take any of the pain away. When she closes the app, her screen reflects the red lipstick. She’s restless. She doesn’t want to masturbate…she’s too angry. She glares at the curtain separating her from Archie, from the rest of the world. Taking off her wig, she peeks out the window. Archie and Veronica are…otherwise engaged…tangled in the sheets. Her heart beats against her ribcage in what she thinks is envy. Not envy for the redheaded boy, but angry for that passion…never consummated.

He was supposed to be her first. The Romeo to her Juliet.

_Love is dead_ , she reminds herself, determined to find her mother’s Serpent attire in the closet. She slips into its skin, not the jacket, of course, but the black leather, and already feels a little more powerful. Chic appears at the stairs, watching her dress with those big, emotionless eyes.

“What do you think, Chic?” she asks, turning in her all-black ensemble.

“Boundaries,” he says softly. “You’re not going to meet a client?”

“No,” she shakes her head. “But I might find one.”

Chic nods carefully, his eyes dragging over her costume, studying her intently. “Use a safe word. Don’t bring them here. And make sure they know you’re in control. One time, little sister. They have to pay for every taste. It’s not personal. You’re in control of exactly how much of the darkness you let them see. Everyone loves that darkness…that void within.” As she passes him on the stairs, he rubs her wrist, and with a shudder she’s aware it’s the first time he’s touched her since she brought him home.

“Fill it, little sister.”

Nodding, she walks past him and descends down through the window her Romeo once climbed up to find something to sate the darkness’s appetite.

 

* * *

 There’s only one place she can think of that’s open this late, and it’s not Pop’s. No sweet strawberry milkshakes tonight. The glowing snake outside the White Wyrm entices her closer, and with a hiss she realizes she’s been pressing her fingernails into her palms instead of on the steering wheel. She stops herself before she breaks the skin.

_What are you trying to find?_

At a glance, she can see the bar is still active with its less than savory patrons. It’s not the same as a night club in New York City, but she doesn’t have that kind of time tonight.

_They can’t hurt you, Betty. They can’t hurt you like I can._

Taking a sharp breath, she exits the car. A few of its patrons glance over at her, but she heads straight for the bar, almost afraid she’ll catch the sight of a certain beanie and lose her nerve.

“Uh, can I help you?” the gruff guy behind the bar asks.

“Tequila. Hold the worm.” Her voice is low, sharp, not _quite_ Betty. It’s the same one she used when threatening Cheryl. _“Get out of my house before I kill you,”_ she’d hissed, the broken cherry queen trembling. That had gotten her out of her hair.

The bartender hesitates, glancing around. Her gaze remains unfocused but fixed on him, ready to pounce.

_You can’t say I’m too young when the group to my right can’t be more than 17._

“I don’t want any trouble,” he murmurs warily, pouring a drink.

With a quirk of her eyebrow, she leans forward. “I won’t be any trouble at all, as long as I get my drink.”

The shot burns down her throat, and she closes her eyes, opening them with sheer force of will. “Another.”

“Hey, you said you wouldn’t-”

Her gaze fixates on him. If her mom could handle three shots, so could she. The intensity of her demeanor makes him sigh in resignation, pouring another one. “Take it easy.”

“You’re not my mother.” The next shot is easier, but still makes her just a little bit nauseous. The warmth is helping, the poison letting out the pain she’s bottling inside. Closed eyes, she wipes her lips on the back of her hand, careful not to smear the red lipstick.

“Ooh, Mommy issues?” she hears behind her. “Join the club.”

When she turns, a leering greaser awaits, hands on his belt.

_Bet I know what he’d like to do with that_ , she thinks somewhat dully. Probably more brazen than they’re used to, she sighs and eyes over the hovering entourage. _This might be easier than I thought._

One is around her age, maybe 18, toned with dark curls and a neck tattoo. The other is in his late twenties, curious eyes and less cockiness. The other stragglers stand back, curious.

_What’s their reading level?_ a bitter part of her asks, and the nice part of her shuts that down. _It doesn’t matter how smart they are. What matters is if they’ll get the job done._

Jughead picked these people over her. It doesn’t matter. They’d already seen her half-naked, even if they didn’t seem to recognize her.

Strippers tend to be faceless, don’t they?

“You could call me _daddy_ if you want to,” the young one smiles.

Inhaling through her nose, she tries to keep her face impassive. “How much have you got?”

Stunned, the guys take a step back. “Um, we don’t solicit here…”

The young one looks disappointed. “Damn, and you looked so nice.”

The word sets off something in her, and she steps towards them. “I’ll be as nice as I want to, sweetie.”

“Hah! She almost knows your name, Sweet Pea,” the bartender chuckles lightly. “But yeah, darling. I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

Without turning around, afraid her flush will set her into a panic, she lowers her jacket to bare more shoulder. “I was more interested in a game of pool. You boys don’t mind showing me how to use a _stick_ , do you?”

The gang trade uncertain glances until the one called Sweet Pea waves her forward with abandon. “Let’s go, Blondie.”

Finding her gait transformed into a saunter, she lets the cocky Serpent set up the racks.

“Do you want to break or shall I?” he asks, handing her a pool cue.

“I think you’re the one who’s gonna break,” she says, eyes glinting with just a hint of amusement.

“Ooh,” he laughs, the noise catching in his throat as he blushes. “What’s the bid?”

“$100.”

The gang laughs, surprised. “That’s a lot of money for a little girl, sweetheart.”

“Maybe for you, little boy,” she says, carefully placing her foot up on a stool. His eyes waiver to her open tight-clad thighs. He can’t see anything _wet_ or otherwise, but men are visual creatures.

_Maybe if Jughead saw you…_

She silences the thought with a sharp call to the bartender. “Can I get another shot?”

Afraid of being called out for his immaturity, Sweet Pea nods, and leans forward to play the game. She downs the cheap alcohol and definitely feels the buzz. But she’s still in control.

“You need me to show you how to use that thing?” he asks.

“I’ve handled bigger,” she shrugs, making his eyes light up.

Every move she makes, even lingering leans on the table, is meant to weave a tighter web. She can feel his eyes on her ass. He moves closer, as if being closer will inherently make her want to shove herself against him. She wiggles slightly, lining up her shot. Across the table, the guy in his twenties tries to check out her cleavage. Their husky half-lidded gazes make her feel a little better. A finger on the back of her thigh instinctively triggers her foot kicking behind her, halting his movements.

“No touching, sweetie,” she says firmly, maintaining her hold on the game.

Sweet Pea’s fingers halt. He’s not sure what to do, and she can feel it.

“Good boy.”

With a sharp movement, she sinks the ball in the corner pocket.

Smiling, she sits up and slides over to line up the next shot, Sweet Pea’s fingers falling to his side. “You’re a tease,” he mutters wantonly, eyes still lit with something like appreciation.

“I like to be in control,” she says, making his lips part in surprise. It would be epic if she sunk this shot, but she hasn’t been practicing, and it bounces back.

“Hey, King,” she hears the bartender say behind her. Her body tenses, careful only to receive him in her peripheral, turning her face so he can’t quite see her.

_FP. Fuck. Jughead’s Dad._

The words swirl in her brain, and suddenly she is _convinced_ that he won’t recognize her…

With renewed confidence, she gently pushes Sweet Pea aside with her hips and sinks another ball.

“Damn,” he mutters appreciatively. “I love me a woman who can work a stick.”

“You should see what I can do with my teeth.”

_Where the hell did that come from?_

Sweet Pea presses against the pool table, attempting to relieve his growing erection. She pauses, resting on the pool cue. “Get me another drink…sweetie,” she says without warmth. Her eyes are hard, and he stiffens, covering the front of his pants. “You’ll wear that like a badge of honor,” she whispers, leaning in closer. “Especially if you want this snake to shed its skin.”

Sweating, nearly panting, he nods and removes his hands.

_Oh. That’s right, you like being told what to do. You probably like being naughty, too._

Chic had a point. People are drawn to the darkness, and she watches him carefully while he goes to bar to get more drinks. Everyone knows now that he wants her. They can smell it on him, see it on him. It’s no longer a guy and a girl behind the screen. She has someone’s pride in her hands.

Her satisfaction is almost sated when she feels a familiar gaze on her neck.

_Act naturally._ She nearly whispers to herself.

_But what the fuck does that mean?_ Another part whispers back.

Elegant, seductive, tense, she knocks another ball in. Someone is circling them as Sweet Pea returns.

“What the hell are you doing?” FP asks.

“I don’t know. But she’s hot as hell and off the clock,” Sweet Pea replies, balancing shots in his hands.

FP hangs back, unable to quite catch a glimpse of the girl. “Just…be fucking careful, huh? It’s a school night, and you don’t know where she’s been.”

_The only one who’s been inside of me has been your son._

It wasn’t…all of him, of course. But it was enough to make her feel like he belonged to her. With her.

She insinuates Sweet Pea’s eye roll. “Thanks, King.”

With exhaustion heavy on his shoulders, FP motions to the bartender.

_You shouldn’t be drinking_ , she wants to tell him. The clear liquid could be water, but she doubts it.

Sweet Pea sets the shots on the table. “What do you say we make things interesting?”

“Is this not _interesting_ enough for you, Sweetie?” she asks, jutting forward, fingers tracing down her neck towards her breasts.

“Ohhh it’s plenty interesting,” he grins, a little loopy with lust. “What do you say if I win, I get a kiss, and if you win, you get a massage.”

“You want to put your hands on my body?” The sultry head tilt makes his pupils dilate. “Where?”

“Uh, anywhere.”

“Tell me where, sweetie,” she repeats firmly, rotating the cue between her fingers. He’s distracted by her thighs again. The intensity of her gaze makes him stutter.

_Good. I want you to be uncomfortable._

“I’m in charge here, sweetie. So…tell me. Where do you want to touch me?”  
His hands reach out. Mistake. The pool cue cracks on his knuckles. “Tell, don’t touch,” she warns.

“Fuck,” he winces, shaking his hands.

She tilts her head, challenging him. “I thought you Serpents were supposed be tough.”

His mouth opens again, but before he can say anything else, FP’s voice carries across the bar, “Oh _shit._ ”

A few of the patrons turn. She can’t quite resist looking over to FP, who’s staring at her, eyebrows raised. “Ah, no. No no no no,” he continues, moving across the bar, waving Sweet Pea away.

She waits, a knot in her throat edging it’s way clear as Sweet Pea stumbles back, confused and horny.

_You can’t hurt me. He can’t hurt me. I can handle myself._

“You shouldn’t be here,” FP warns, about to grab her, then, glancing at Sweet Pea’s hand, dropping it.

Her shoulders square against him. “You shouldn’t be drinking,” she counters, a little proud of the emotions she’s suppressing.

Exasperated, nervous, he wipes his brow with his fingers. “Yeah, well I’ve got bigger problems. Go home, Betty.”

After glancing to make sure Sweet Pea doesn’t catch her name, (it’s always better to be anonymous), Betty tilts her head, letting her pool cue rest against the table. Her fingers find the cool glass Sweet Pea left. FP raises his hand in warning.

“I’d love to, FP,” she murmurs, big eyes fixed on his slanted, worried expression. “But I’m drunk. Can’t drink and drive.”

A sigh ripples through him as she downs the next shot.

“You and Jug have a falling out again?” he whispers. “Fuck it. That’s fine. But don’t go showing up in a bar, Betty. Especially this one. You could get hurt.”

_I am hurt._

The confession startles her.

Recovering, the dark part of her whispers, _It’s time to do some hurting._

“What are you going to do to me?” she asks, aware of the alcohol slurring her speech just the tiniest bit.

FP stares her down.

_Ooh, now he’s getting mad._

“I’m taking you home.”

It feels like something slithers down her leg in irritation, wanting to plant herself firm.

Sweet Pea meanders forward in their standoff. “Hey, FP, we were just playing a game.”

“Game’s over, Sweet Pea,” FP orders. “And put down that drink. I’m taking your friend home.”

“But we had a bet on the game-“

“I’ll pay the bounty,”FP snaps, eyes still on Betty, who’s slowly relaxing as the alcohol works through her. “Just put those drinks away and don’t talk to her again.”

He goes to grab her again but she pulls away. “Hands off, _King_ ,” she sways. “I can walk myself out.” As she passes Sweet Pea, her fingers graze his stomach, grabbing his shirt. “Next time I’ll take it _with_ the worm.”

Leaving a grinning, stupefied boy in her wake, she makes her way to the exit. FP storms after her, heading towards her borrowed car.

“Not gonna take the bike?” she asks, attempting to focus.

“Shut up, Betty. You’re in a lot of trouble tonight. The last thing you need is to be on a motorcycle.” She admires his tight jaw, his tendons twitching in his neck. She hands him the keys. “I can’t believe this. I’m going to have to get Tallboy to pick me up a block away or something,” he mutters angrily as they slide into the car.

“Are you afraid of being spotted? By my mother?” she asks bluntly, intensely watching his face contort.

_He carries his tension in his jaw. Jug carries it in his brow. But they both have it bad for the Cooper women, huh? Had it bad, I mean._

She shakes her head, the alcohol catching up with her. When he doesn’t reply, she studies him quietly, the lights of the bar fading into the background.

“I look like her, don’t I?”

Sighing, FP attempts to relax into the seat. “Tonight, yeah.”

“Like a Serpent…sneaking up to wrap its coils around the very core of your heart.” She swallows something vile in her throat. “Wanting…waiting…” Her thighs shift open. FP glances over with a frown.

“You don’t belong in there, Betty.”

Sliding her shoulder against the door to look at him, she reminds him, “When I shed my skin, it was you who gave me your jacket. Did you enjoy the show?” she asks, voice gravelly. FP sits in silence. “Was I serpent-like enough for you? For your son?”

“Betty…” FP sighs, exasperated.

“Give me your jacket,” she says, eyes flashing dangerously.

“I get it, you want to watch over him,” FP says, attempting to distract her and keep his eyes on the road. “But you know Jughead, he always wants to do everything himself. Well he’s fucked up royally this time. But I’ve got him. I’ll be paying for his mistakes for a long time yet, no need for you to pay too.”

_I’ve got him_ , she repeats, not understanding. She _had_ him but he let her go.

“People pay me now, Mr. Jones,” she slurs, tightening her thighs shut. His eyes flicker over her warily. “You asked me to shed my skin. Well this is it. This is what’s underneath.”

Sighing, FP tries to reason with her. “You’re a good girl, Betty. You’re good for him.” She clenches her eyes shut against those poisonous words. “He used to be—he used to be happy,” FP shakes his head. “But he’s got a darkness in him, Betty. I’ve tried—I tried to keep him away from all that. But sometimes you have to let people make mistakes…and letting you go—that was his mistake.”

She’s vaguely aware of the swaying of the car lulling her into complacency, her eyes heavy.

His steady voice reverberates through her chest. “He’s made his bed, and now he has to lay in it.”

She slow-blinks at him, processing. “And now I’m making mine. Unless you’d like to offer yours, of course.”

“Oh boy,” FP sighs, and reaches over to turn on the radio.

“It’s all right. I get it. You can picture Mom. I can picture Jughead. Although you may prefer the younger model,” she swallows, not sure if she’s saying it aloud.

“You need someone who will treat you right, Betty Cooper.”

She blinks again, a small smile playing on her lips. “I’ve been playing with boys, Mr. Jones. But big bad men have been playing with my life for as long as I can remember. They don’t know…I’m coming for you, Mr. Jones. I’m coming for all of you, and I’m bigger, and badder than anything you can imagine.”

_He’s afraid_ , she thinks smugly to herself, watching him tense.

_And I have all the power._

When they pull up to the Cooper house, she directs him where to park the car. They both exit, and Betty takes the keys from his trembling fingers.

He tries to stop her as she walks away, earnestly reaching out. “Hey—I’m not going to tell Jug about any of this, okay?”

A small, tired smile plays on her lips. “Okay, Mr. Jones.”

Her legs feel shaky as she climbs back up the stairs. Chic’s screen is still glowing, and she can hear him whisper into the monitor to his client. Emotionless. Totally in control.

He must sense her, because he tells the John to wait and opens the door, eyeing Betty suspiciously.

His voice is low, “You wanna watch?”

Shrugging, she nods, and finds herself perched on the edge of the bed, listening to Chic order the man behind the camera to take his clothes off.

She can’t see anything, and soon she can’t feel anything.

_I think…I think I’ve gone numb._


	2. Betty Cooper is no good girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In case you weren't aware, this story starts season 2, episode 12 adjacent. The whole conversation after they got suspended from the paper literally makes me want to rip the writers apart for such a stupid plot device as Toni Topaz. So if we're going down the jealousy path, I decided to ease Betty's aching heart by filling it with lots of dark encounters. They start to catch up with her though, and she still isn't sure if that's what she wants. Also, why has Betty never been to the Roving Eye? Dark Betty needs some dancing!

“Rough night, Betty?” Veronica asks, jilting Betty out of her daze.

“No,” Betty shakes her head, tongue thick with sleepiness.

“Betty? Party? As if,” Kevin scoffs. “You were probably up studying for that Great Gatsby test.”

She didn’t know how Chic had the energy to go all night _and_ do a job interview the next day. She wasn’t there yet. She only talked to one John last night, but it totally drained her, and she didn’t feel nearly as giddy as when she smacked that pool cue against the lusty Serpent’s knuckles or made FP squirm in his seat.

“Ooh Gatsby! Now _he_ knew how to throw a great party,” Veronica grins mischievously.

“Ugh, the last thing I need is party,” Betty sighs, her voice still raw from last night.

“Aw, come on.” Swaying, a twinkle in her eye, Veronica reaches for Betty’s hand. “We haven’t been out together since the disastrous Jingle Jangle debacle.” Betty tenses, and she must look tired beyond reach because Veronica’s eyes slit into concern.

“I’m _fine._ ”

Kevin’s raised eyebrows indicate he believes otherwise. She’s about to further her case when she spots a leather jacket, triggering some kind of flashback.

“Betty?” Kevin asks, hovering on concern.

“You know what,” she starts, irritated, “Why not? I deserve to let loose. But let’s do it _away_ from Riverdale.”

Before Veronica can squeal, Betty casts her a sharp glance, “No Archie this time. Just us girls…”

“And gays,” Kevin finishes, already smiling wistfully. “A party. Just like Gatsby.”

“With less death and tragedy,” Betty mutters under her breath.

“Did you even _read_ the book?” Kevin asks, incredulous. “That’s half the fun! Building it up and tearing it down. Everyone loves a great tragedy.”

_Yeah. Except when it’s their own life._

* * *

 

 It’s not really her thing, she realizes mildly, and Veronica is gently pushing an energy drink into her hands before they go in to the Roving Eye.

“Sip slowly,” Veronica indicates matter-of-factly. “It’ll keep you peppy and perfect, as always.”

“Great.”

It tastes like battery acid, but it’s not any worse than the tequila. They work their way inside, and Betty hovers for a little bit before her friends ask her what’s wrong.

Hesitating, she looks around. “I kinda…wanna find a guy tonight.”

Both of their eyes light up in fascination.  
“But Betty, Jughead-“

“Dumped me, Veronica,” she finishes, taking another sip. “I heard him and Archie talking about me being pure as the driven snow and how it should stay that way,” she scowls.

Face scrunched in confusion, Veronica grabs her arm. “Pure as the—did they not know about our kiss?! Because I’m pretty sure beanie-boy defiled you more that.”

“Fuck it! If Betty wants a man, let’s get her a MAN!” Kevin announces gleefully. A few party-goers look in their direction, much to his pleasure.

“A little louder, why don’t you?” Betty cringes.

Veronica’s reassuring hand lands on her shoulder. “You sure you want to do this, B? I mean, my virginity was long gone in New York, but for you…it might be…“

“What?” she nearly spits.

“You might want to save it for someone special,” she finishes softly, rubbing her arm.

Spine stiffening, she raises her chin to peruse the party. “And he will be. For tonight. I get to be special all my life.”

“Yes you do,” Veronica assures her, torn between worry and encouragement.

The music pounds through her veins, and the trio start off just enjoying dancing. Betty can’t seem to relax, constantly afraid some other psycho killer will be over her shoulder.

_They should be afraid of YOU, Betty._

Sandwiched between her friends, Betty shifts to the rhythm. The slow ache that’s been sitting in her chest begins to shake loose.

_I can’t do this right now._

Anxious, she turns and finds anyone she can deem the opposite of Jughead. Not a girl, he’ll be too turned on by that. A dirty blonde with brown eyes, great hair, and an expensive watch catches her eye.

_He’d hate that._

Throat drying, she moves towards her target. Veronica and Kevin don’t even fully realize she’s disengaged until she’s nearly upon him. Veronica looks at her with panic, Kevin mouthing “YES!” with enthusiasm.

She’ll have to touch him, she realizes with a little bit of dread coupled with excitement. His square jaw turns, and now he’s noticed her too, and Betty instinctively pulls his arm towards her. His eyes light up in surprise as she presses her back to his chest, grinding her hips into him. Veronica’s jaw drops. Betty isn’t sure she can watch her friends enjoy the degeneration of Betty Cooper. She closes her eyes and just lets herself feel the beat.

The clenching pressure around her heart slowly lets up, and she tries to think of him as a John.

_No feelings. They’re not people, they’re leeches. You just have to let them get a little blood._

Her fingers trail through the blonde’s hair, curling it in her fists.

_It’s not the same._

Bitterly, _It’s not supposed to be._

The boy moans against her throat and rubs himself against her backside, his hand tracing her stomach over her dress.

“Pics or it didn’t happen,” Kevin whispers loudly in Veronica’s ear.

Betty’s going numb, even against the hardness in his pants. Desperate to feel something other than dreary anger, she gyrates her hips with more vigor.

“Oh my god-“ her target jerks his hips, and at the end of the song he’s breathless, nibbling on her ear. “You gonna pay my dry cleaning bill, blondie?”

She swivels, facing him, suddenly more in control, tracing his jaw with her fingers. “Oh, sweetie, no.”

Amused, he blinks. His mouth opens, leaning in towards her. Before he can say anything else, she catches his lip between her teeth and sucks on the salty skin.

_It’s just flesh._

By sheer force of will, she pushes away memories of a sweet, desperate confession against her lips.

 

_Also…_

 

_I can make a confession of my own._

_Betty Cooper is no good girl._

 

Her tongue slips into the stranger’s mouth, his arms wrapping around her waist. 

“Oh my god!” she hears Veronica exclaim in the background. “Oh. My. God. _Archie?_ ”

“Ow! Careful,” the blonde boy grins, touching his freshly-bitten lips.

Archie’s hand is on Veronica’s waist, listening to her try to explain, while his eyes are fixed, fascinated in mixed disbelief on Betty and her stranger. Her teeth dig into her own lips, and she wonders if Archie will tell Jughead—if she _wants_ him to tell him.

_Don’t judge me._

It’s all she can think and her fingers tighten on the stranger’s hair. Archie seems at a loss for words, simultaneously trying to deal with Veronica. The stranger’s breath is on her cheek, and suddenly his hot mouth is on her neck.

_Leech._

Within a minute, Archie is right behind her. “Uh, Betty?”

Breaking contact with the stranger, she twists to look at him. “What, Archie? Couldn’t keep your hands off your girlfriend for two minutes so you had to crash girls’ night?”

Wincing just a teeny bit, like the little puppy dog he is, Archie tries to see past her mask. “What are you doing?”

The stranger snorts a laugh against her neck. “Who’s he?”

“The boy next door,” she drawls.

“Betty, this isn’t like you. I mean, do you even _know_ this guy?”

“I’m just _evening out the playing field, Arch_ ,” she over-annunciates. “What does PG-13 groping mean, exactly?”

Stunned, Archie takes a step back. “Betty, I thought you were over it?”

She recoils as if she was hit. “I am over it. And now I’m under it.”

Archie’s face falling with sympathy hits her like a brick. Suddenly she doesn’t want this boy wrapped around her. She wants her friends. She wants her mom to tell her it will be all right.

The stranger’s arms pull her closer against him. “Mm, I can give you PG-13, hon.” His teeth graze her ear again. “Even R, if you’re really bad.”

Squirming, she’s aware she’s falling into the stranger even more. Fighting an onslaught of tears, she pushes against the anger, against the stranger’s chest. “Give me a second.” For a moment his grip tightens, not wanting to let her go. Sensing the coiled fight-or-flight, and noting Archie’s fist curling, he releases her.

“All right. I’ll be here.”

Slipping away, she can’t help but remember the word Jughead used right before they broke up (the first time)… “Unmoored.”

Archie tries to grab at her arm but she swats him away.

“Are you okay?”

“Do I look okay, Arch?” she snaps without looking at him, pushing through the crowd to get to Veronica. “What is he doing here?”

“I-I don’t know,” she manages, glancing between them.

“I followed her,” Archie answers.

Shaking her black curls, Veronica is stunned. “Why?”

Hesitating, Archie rubs his neck. “Your dad was worried. I-I was worried.”

“Oh. My. God.”

As they unleash a mini-discussion about the right to privacy, Betty smooths her hair and disappears into the crowd again. Weedling through the crowd, she finds a sink and splashes cold water on her neck. The chill calms her nerves. Glancing up, she sees Kevin eyeing her while dancing with a cute guy. Wiping her wet hands over her lips, she wonders if that’s all this is. Flesh on flesh. Sensing her need, Kevin excuses himself to put a hand on her back.

“What’s going on Betty? Did Blondie have bad breath?”

“No,” she says, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I just-how do you do it, Kevin? How do you hook up with someone…”

_Someone you don’t love._

Sympathetic, Kevin rubs Betty’s back. “Practice, hon. It’s just sex. It’s all about that orgasm. Now you get yours. Or don’t. I’ll be here on team Betty.” His reassuring smile makes her feel slightly better.

“Dance with me?” she pleads, hoping her big-eyes are still enough to win him over.

“Of course.”

* * *

 

“Where were you, little sis?” Chic asks when she gets home. His lithe frame haunts the house. No wonder Dad had to leave.

“Out. With some friends,” she replies softly.

His nod is almost imperceptible.

_God. Does he ever blink?_

“Keep letting yourself out, Betty Cooper. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

She nods, hesitant.

_What happened to you?_

“Chic…have you ever been in love?” she asks with bated breath.

His small smirk is amused, smug. She almost wants to recoil from it. “Love isn’t for fools like me, Betty. Love is for the weak. We _use_ love, we don’t _make_ it.”


	3. Serpents and Swords

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sweet Pea wants another taste of hanging out with dark Betty, and he's not afraid of going after it. With Jughead's position in the Serpents slipping, they're growing bolder, and he's growing more desperate. Jughead finally asks Betty for help, but everything feels like it's falling apart or falling back to just how it used to be.

Her phone pings with a text from Jughead. “Hey Betts - can you meet me at Pop’s at 8?”

“Yes.” The reply is done before she even thinks about it.

_Fuck._

Needing control, her fingers fumble for grounding. They find her keyboard, popping open the webcam app. Quickly making herself up, she lets herself calm down in the dark.

 

_Is he texting about that night at the club? Archie is such a tattle-tale._

She moves past the booths, attempting the lithe grace of Taylor Swift. He shifts, relieved and serious as he spots her.

“Hey Betty, thanks for meeting me here. You’re the only person in this town I can talk to about this…”

_Oh. It's not about that night. But why can't he talk to his new…"family?”_

Trying to maintain the appropriate level of politeness of a childhood friend, she says, “Of course. But I have to point out-“

His scowl seems deeper-seated than usual. “I know what you’re going to say. That last time the Serpents and I were in trouble I pushed you away? I know. But-“

Betty’s body floats above her body, a ringing in her ears vaguely picking up words like, “trailer park…eviction…headless.” He’s bargaining with her, reserved, like she’s a stranger. A source.

She’s certain that something bad like pain will overwhelm her and crack this facade if she doesn’t interrupt him soon.

“Let’s talk to the mayor,” she offers. His protests irritate her, like someone blowing on her neck. She tries to listen politely, coming up with a solution for this volatile, (beautiful) boy. “We’ll diffuse the argument. Find the head. Save the park.” It’s so simple. Her hands instinctively reach out to hold his.

_Oh—no._

Slightly ashamed, she pulls her hands back before they touch. His breath hitched in confusion, Jughead searches her face.

_He thinks I’m crazy._

But she slips her mask back in place like nothing happened, smiling sweetly.

“What? No appetite this morning, Jug?”

Shaking his head, he turns his palms up as if he’s surprised the air doesn’t mold the way he wants. “I…didn’t expect you to come through so fast for me, Betts.”

“That’s why I’m here.” She blows past his searching frown, not wanting to deal with him trying to put her together like a puzzle. An _enigma_. She orders him a breakfast sandwich and herself some oatmeal with strawberries. His mouth opens every once in a while, as if he’s about to say something, but he shuts it again.

_What? What is it, Jug?_

She fights the urge to look at his lips, the tension rippling through her, just under the surface. When he gapes at her again, she looks away. He used to be able to tell when she was going dark.

_Guess I’ve gotten good at hiding it._

_I guess I’m not his problem anymore._

_But…he’s still mine._

Sighing, she tries to focus on sipping coffee. They eat stiffly, which is especially weird considering how Jughead is often at his happiest with a sandwich in his hands. She occasionally punctuates the silence with a pleasant, light question about the park. His furrowed brow doesn’t move, holding all the tension.

“Have you talked to your Dad?” she asks. He pulls away from his food, looking down.

“Dad’s not exactly happy with me right now.”

A brief smile graces her lips. “I figured.” At his questioning eyebrow, she shrugs.

_I know you, Jug._

She waits for him to reciprocate, “How are you? How’s the lost Cooper?” But it doesn’t come. Just a terse, “How’s your mom?”

“Fine,” she smiles at her oatmeal. He nods, stiff.

_Liar._

* * *

 

“Oh, shit. Wrong hall.” Archie nearly spins in place.

“Archie-what—“ Betty hesitates, aware she’s being dragged away from the voice of Jughead.

“This is profiling! It’s discrimination.”

_Oh._

“Thanks, but I don’t need your protection,” Betty affirms, carrying herself a little taller. Nodding, Archie still seems ready to bolt.

She licks her lips, eyeing the closed door. “Besides, aren’t you curious about it? He starts a club and doesn’t invite any of his friends to join?”

“Oh, he invited his _friends_ ,” Archie mumbles bitterly, hand tightening on his backpack. “It’s called Serpents and Swords. Like a role-play strategy for gang members.”

“Roleplay?” she asks, the words light on her tongue as she hovers closer to the closed door.

_Since when do clubs close doors?_

“Come on, Betty, I really just want to get out of here. I still have to meet Kevin for practice and Hiram’s gonna hate me if I’m late.”

“You’re dating his daughter. He’s going to hate you no matter what.”

It comes out more matter-of-fact than she intends. Biting her tongue, she turns to him. “Sorry, Arch.”

Shrugging irritably, he turns, ready to leave.

Some investigative partner he’d make, she sighs. Her face leans closer to the glass window, trying to keep herself hidden. It’s the Serpent kids, all right. No dice or plans laid out. No costumes. No handcuffs, either. Jughead is gesturing, ranting so loud it can be heard through the door.

When would they be able to just be kids, just play a game after school? A fantasy world would be nice. But Jughead is talking about revolting again. Rolling her eyes, she wonders why he can’t seem to keep a level head when it comes to this town, to his father. Her gaze searches hungrily for a kind face amongst his friends.

Someone spots her, and she starts to back away. But the boy stands up, brow furrowed. At first Jughead thinks he’s riled him up, but Betty knows better. Sweet Pea. When the boy keeps staring, Toni turns too, curious. Jughead, sensing a distraction, looks over his shoulder.

_Of course you’ll look if she does._

Jughead shakes his head, only slightly. He won’t even open the door. She swallows her panic and moves away, dread sinking into her gut.

“Let’s go, Arch.”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

As they start to move, the door clicks open on Jughead’s shout, “Sweet Pea?”

The tall muscular Serpent spills into the hall, whipping his head in Betty’s alarmed direction. Stiffening, she inhales and tries to spin back towards Archie for protection.

“Wait—you’re…” he breathes.

She can hear Jughead protesting in the background, coming to collect his Serpent.

“Shut it for a sec, Jug!” Sweet Pea snaps, trotting after Betty.

“Oh my god,” she mutters into her sweater, trying to pick up the pace.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Sweet Pea calls, reaching for her arm.

“Hands off, man!” Archie protests, knocking him away with a forearm.

Betty’s heartbeat is in her throat as her friend protects her from the admirer. But Sweet Pea’s eyes are hungry, roaming.

“You’re that girl! From the bar, right?”

“The bar? Are you fucking crazy, man? Betty doesn’t hang out in bars,” Archie frowns, still trying to keep the distance between them, one hand out.

Jughead’s indignant march couldn’t be more on cue. “Are you done, Sweet Pea?” Sighing, he acknowledges Archie and Betty. “What the hell are you guys doing here?”

Raising his eyebrows in annoyance, Archie juts his chin out to talk to Jughead. “Uh, we still go to school here, Jug. Just passing by when this nut job tried to hit on Betty. She’s not a bar rat, man!”

Inhaling, trying to steady her nerves, she avoids anyone’s gaze. Except for Jug. He catches her anxiety just once.

“Betty?” he calls, voice low.

“Don’t worry, I’m not trying to join your stupid club, Jug. I got the message loud and clear,” she says pointedly, clutching her backpack tighter.

Peeved, Jughead points at her. “Betty, I told you that I would have the Serpents pass out the reward flyers. What’s so hard to understand about that”

“It’s not! I-“

At her name, Sweet Pea straightens. “Betty?” He slows his strut, turning to look at a bewildered Jughead. “Oh. _Ex_.” His brows knit together in a frown, remembering, even as his cheeks rise in a smile. “The serpent dance,” he exhales, pleased. “That was the best day of my life. Until I saw you again, that is.”

As if embarrassment isn’t already radiating off of her, Jughead has the nerve to grit his teeth and bark, “Back off, Sweet Pea. And Betty, what are you doing snooping outside of Serpent headquarters? I already told you-“

“Yeah! I know! Just wanted to get a glimpse of your perfect family,” she snaps back, losing her temper.

“Oh, we’re far from perfect, babe,” Sweet Pea grins, leaning towards her. “Positively sinful.”

“Is this guy for real?” Archie protests, arms raised. “Betty, let’s go.”

“With pleasure,” she snides, turning on her heels. The Serpent follows her. Annoyed, she gazes at him sidelong. “What?”

His chin tilts up, revealing that delicate tattooed neck. “Hey. I need to see you again, Betty. You are…amazing,” he sighs, eyes lingering. Her mouth drops open in shock. She’s fairly certain Archie and Jughead have also been driven to speechlessness. She looks behind her to confirm it, and there’s Jughead’s incredulous, enraged face, a vein popping out on his forehead.

“I can’t date you,” she whispers to the Serpent, eyes wide in surprise.

“Why not?”

“Um, Jughead?” Archie snaps, and Betty isn’t sure if it’s the answer or a plea for him to reign in her eager admirer.

The Serpent shifts, putting his arm in front of her to deter her from walking away. “Don’t worry about him.”

Outraged, Jughead storms towards them. “A Serpent never betrays his own!”

Sweet Pea rolls his eyes, addressing the crew. “After what you made us do to Penny, I think it’s okay if I ask your ex-girlfriend _whom you broke up with_ out on a date. That’s not a problem, right Jug? You don’t still have feelings for this stone-cold fox, do you?”

His face reddens in what she thinks is pure, riled-up frustration, and he stutters for a moment, glancing between them. “What the _fuck_ Sweet Pea?”

“Yeah, what the fuck?” Toni echoes, joining them in the hall, arms crossed over her chest. Betty’s eyes narrow briefly upon her arrival.

“What did you to Penny?” she asks sharply, gaze cutting back into him.

“We…nothing,” Jughead snaps, glaring at Sweet Pea.

Intrigued, Archie stalks towards his friend. “Did you hurt someone, Jug?” His gaze lingers on the Serpents spilling into the hall. “Did you and your friends start another fight, another war? What is it with you?”

“We didn’t-! We just-! We’re handling it!” Jughead shouts, spreading his arms as if pushing the two groups further apart will somehow calm this down.

Rolling his neck in irritation, Archie groans, “Yeah, sure Jug. It sure does look like it. Boy, I’m glad you brought all your friends here so they could try to screw your girlfriend and off your dealer? Any of them help with your DELIVERY ROUTE lately?”

“Delivery route? What?” Betty asks, spinning so fast her ponytail whips the other side of her face.

“It’s nothing you need to concern yourself over.” Jughead’s eyes narrow on Archie, stiff in betrayal.

“I’m on duty,” Sweet Pea pipes up.

Beyond done, Archie purses his lips at Jughead. “You gonna tell her or should I?”

Her fingers dig into her palms, even as Sweet Pea’s arm drapes on her shoulder. “I said don’t touch me,” she warns, eyebrow arching. The Serpent grins, loving the punishment.

“She said don’t touch her!” Archie interrupts, pushing Sweet Pea with one hand. Startled, the Serpent pushes back.

1000% done, Betty shoots Jughead one last scathing look before propelling herself down the hallway. Archie tries to push the Serpent one last time before running after her.

“Hey!” Sweet Pea protests as the other Serpents hold him back. “I could’ve taken him!”

She hears Jughead cussing him out, but misses the expletives in her increasing tunnel vision.

“Are you okay?” she hears Archie ask, jogging to catch up with her.

“What delivery?” she asks, her ears reddening, looking directly into his eyes.

The worst liar of the group, Archie softens, “I…I had to help him with something. He said it was a matter of life and death. Had some favor, debt that needed to be repaid from his dad. We nearly got killed, Betty. We had to drop off some package off this for that Penny chick. I think it’s bad. Jughead’s not the kid we grew up with,” he sighs, shaking his head, frown deep set in his face.

Swallowing against the building, reeling anxiety, she whispers fiercely, “You were like brothers.”

“Yeah, well…things change, I guess,” he sighs, glancing behind. “I’d do anything for him, but he chose a new family, Betty. No Serpent left behind. We’ve just got to accept that.”

“ _No!_ ”

The force of it surprises her, and him too. Tears threaten to spill over. “I won’t…I’m not giving up on him. Not yet, Archie.”

Moving his lips to one side, he studies her. “Then…when?”

_Until it sticks._

 

* * *

 

She’s not home for five minutes before her mother is screaming at her about Serpent scum. “And that Jones boy was bad enough, but now we had some guy called SWEET PEA calling for you? What are these boys doing? This town is _out of control_ ,” Alice rants, waving her arms. "I swear, sometimes I think we should just move away from it all. Get you two away from those men who try to hurt you." Chic sits quietly in an armchair, observing as always.

Betty swallows against a building argument and rubs her forehead.

“I’m not interested in either of them, Mom. I just want to go to bed.”

“Are you kidding me? It’s seven o’clock!” 

“Trust me, it’s been that kind of day,” she sighs, glancing forlornly at the stairs leading to her bedroom.

Alice moves forward, grasping her daughter’s shoulders. “Promise me, Betty. Promise me you won’t do anything bad.”

“I promise,” she swallows, feeling the numbness settle over her after the raw disgust of the day.

Chic tilts his chin at her. She feels like showering and staying at Kevin’s until this whole thing blows over.

 

* * *

 

_ “Hey.” _

Another unknown number? Her heartbeat jumps as her fingers hover over the unlock screen.

“Who is this?”

_ “You secret admirer ;)” _

Her breath hitches in her throat. Did one of her clients trace her? Fuck. Her fingers go to type, but then she pauses.

_Control, Betty. Control._

“Another bad boy?”

_ “I’m as bad as they come, baby.” _

She scoffs at the text, glancing through the window to see if Archie’s home. No. Probably still at wrestling tryouts, along with Kevin.

Shit. Was she supposed to stay and watch them? That room reeks.

_ “But don’t worry, I can be SWEET” _

Annoyance and relief seep out of her, not sure which she feels more.

“What do you want, Sweet Pea?”

_ “Meet me at the White Wyrm. We have a bet to settle.” _

Exhausted, she lets her fingers decide what to say.

“How did you find my number?”

_ “Stole it from Jughead’s backpack. Come on, Betty. Don’t leave me hanging :(” _

Her teeth test her lips, wondering what she should say.

“What about Jug?”

_ “Fuck him. He’s barely a Serpent now anyway. If you need protection, you’re gonna want it from me.” _

_ Do I really want to do this? _

_ “Plus…I really want to touch you.” _

Sighing, she’s thankful the numbness has settled in or else she’d be more worried about what she's supposed to do.

“Not the Wyrm. Too public. Let’s meet by the dumpsters at the trailer park.”

_ “Weird :/ Ok your rules babe” _

 

Sighing, she pushes off the bed and grabs her perfume. If she’s going to the dumpster, she sure as hell bringing something to mask it with.

A face hovers in her doorway.

_Did I even leave that open?_

“You remember what I told you?” Chic asks, voice… _off_ …somehow.

She nods, swallowing.

He tilts his chin in assent and disappears in the shadows again.

* * *

 

She shows up at the dumpster, too tired to properly feign interest in the Serpent sauntering over to her. 

_Give him what he wants._

“Kneel.”

He stops in his tracks, surprised. “What?”

She blinks, nodding to the ground. “I want you to kneel for me.”

Twisting his cheek in amusement, Sweet Pea’s eyes linger on her thighs. “I don’t go to third on the first date. And I don’t kneel for anyone except the King.”

Irritated, she steps forward. “Worship…your queen,” she annunciates, amazed how easy it is to slip into her dominant traits.

“We have a date, you and I,” he reminds her, eyebrow quirked.

“Kneel,” she demands, stalking closer.

Moaning in the back of his throat, he slowly gets down on one knee. Her eyes rake him, almost _excited_.

“My queen,” he nods, pleased.

_Thought I was just a North-sider. It’s amazing what a nice set of lingerie can do._

He’s looking up at her…like he _does_ worship her. He wants to possess her, sure, but he _is_ interesting. Dark greased hair, straighter than she’s used to, a strong jaw, and that neck…

“When do I get to touch you?” he asks.

“When I’m finished touching you.” She doesn’t mean it to sound as sexual as it is. Curious, she reaches forward and runs her fingers over his cheek. Hard bones, firm skin.

_Yes, it’s just flesh. Learn to appreciate the human body, Betty, just like Kevin does._

“I want to slap this cheek,” she murmurs, making him grin. But she really does. Especially after that stunt in the hallway. She wants to see red, wants to put it there on his pretty-boy face.

Slapping Chuck was in rage. This time, she wants to slap Sweet Pea for fun. She waits, letting her thumb trace him almost tantalizingly slow. His smile flickers in anticipation.

The impact snaps more than it stings. On instinct, she rubs the spot she strikes him to soothe him.

“Good boy,” she says, aware her breath hitches in her throat.

“Mm…feel good, B?”

She doesn’t respond.

_Yes._

Tongue peeking through his teeth, Sweet Pea looks up at her gratefully. This power feels…intoxicating.

Her fingers trace up the inside of her thigh, sensual but nothing crazy. “You get one touch, right here.”

Eyebrows raised, he leans forward, and to her pleasant surprise uses his hot mouth against her. He’s firm, lingering on the kiss there, and she’s pretty sure he’d suck on her if she wouldn’t slap him hard enough to break his nose if he did.

Not quite letting out a moan, Betty pushes his face away with her thigh. “That’s enough, sweetie.” Licking his lips, trying to savor the taste of her, Sweet Pea keeps steady, hungry eye contact.

_I…I like this._

Steadying her breath, she tentatively reaches for his hair. It’s greasy and thick, like Jughead light.

_I can’t keep thinking about him._

“I want you to tell me about all the naughty things you and the Serpents have been doing.”

“Like…in the bedroom?” he asks dubiously, eyebrows raised.

“No,” she says softly, fingernails gently massaging his scalp. “I want you to tell me all about your packages and deliveries, sweetie.”

He smiles mischievously, “What’ll you do if I don’t?”

Her grip tightens on his hair, pulling his head back to look up at her. That neck so deliciously exposed, snake tattoo catching her eye.

“You’ll want to be a good boy for me sweetie.”

His tongue peeks out of the corner of his mouth, hinting otherwise.

She slaps him hard before she even realizes what she’s doing, teeth biting down on her tongue in fury.

Mouth open, he uses his tongue to pry at his broken lips. “Damn, Betty. You’ve got one fine right hook.”

Taking another breath, aware that this feeling is intoxicating, she grabs him by the scruff of his neck again. “Tell me, sweetie. Or you’ve got another one coming. Obey your queen.”

From his open-mouthed adoration, she’s pretty sure she could ask him to do anything and he would.

They both just want to feel _better._


	4. Sweet Spot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty enjoys playing with Sweet Pea, who gives her information on where she might be able to find a certain head in Riverdale. Although she enjoys her tryst with SP, Betty can't help but make a stop at a familiar trailer on the way home...that of her ex-boyfriend, Jughead. Chic implies that people are things to be used, but Betty finds herself wanting more. Kevin to the emotional rescue!

_I didn’t fuck him, but I did fuck him up_.

Sweet Pea turns away, still dazed.

She’s proud, really, that his legs are trembling, that she’s given him a bit of peace. “Don’t tell anyone about this,” she reminds him, warning.

His tongue licks at the cut on his lips. “As you wish, Queen. Until next time.” He kisses the air in her direction, eyeing her one more time before he turns away.

Shifting uncomfortably, she folds her arms. It makes him chuckle, even as he fades through the trailer park beyond.

_What does this say about me? That I like hurting other people? That I liked hurting him? I don’t even know if that’s what it is…I just…felt…something._

Watching a guy touch himself was different in person. She’d seen Jughead stroke himself a little, sure, but he’d pushed her away before she could pull him out and see much of anything. Sweet Pea, though, was a little more desperate, more honest about it. That kind of raw passion excited her.

 

_“This what you had in mind for our first date?” Sweet Pea asks, fisting himself through his jeans._

_She watches him, interest piqued. “I’m not going to stop you, sweetie. You've been a good boy, and you deserve to have fun.”_

_The jerking motion and accompanied moans are rhythmic, almost soothing. He tries to get her to make eye contact, but she’s more rapt on the way he strokes, learning the way he likes it and storing it away for future use. Chic says watching a man orgasm is watching him come undone, and he’s not wrong._

_When he finishes, eyes clenched, uttering a guttural moan, she wonders if this counts as a PG-13 grope session. But she only touched his face and pinched his nipples and he kissed random parts of her neck and thighs so…maybe not._

_He opens his eyes, grateful, exhausted. For some reason, it makes her smile._

  

With a ragged breath, she looks again at the dumpsters behind the trailer park. She thought for sure the missing bronze head would be planted here. At least Sweet Pea had given her a tip. Sometimes the Serpents go to the scrap yard if they’re looking to dispose something they don’t want anyone else to find for a while. He even suggested it for their next rendezvous.

She couldn’t say if there would be one for sure. Shifting, irritated, she crosses her arms and walks across the park.

She’s automatically drawn towards Jughead’s trailer. He won’t be there right now. Sweet Pea said he had _Serpent Business_ to ensure they wouldn't be caught. Drugs. Penny. She knows all of it now…well, as much as Sweet Pea knows, which is enough to keep her sated for now.

The trailer seems so small now. Her heart aches, beating her throat. Clutching her coat tightly around her, she manages to knock three times, just in case FP is home. No.

She stands against the chill for a minute, letting the cold prickle at her skin.

Swallowing against her better judgment, Betty takes out a bobby pin from her hair.

After practiced movements, the trailer opens, and she notes the haphazard food boxes and glasses strewn about the kitchen.

_Things must not be good._

Without really knowing what she’s looking for, Betty trails through the rooms, fingers touching what she can. In the bathroom, she checks for feminine products.

_No. Still using the dollar store shampoo._

On instinct, she opens the cap, the clean smell reminding her of him. Of sitting in Pop’s, drinking milkshakes. His lips against her palms, kissing the scars away.

She blinks, aware her heart is beating fast again.

Shoving the shampoo back where she found it, she goes into his room.

_Betty Cooper, you sneaky little minx._

She’s fairly certain Kevin would love this story. Breaking into her ex’s trailer, looking for clues. Clues for what though? An affair? They’re not _together_.

The sight of his small rumpled bed and discarded laptop make her heart ache. The typewriter she gave him for Christmas is perched on a makeshift desk, finished papers drying by its side. They used to cuddle in this room together, reading and hypothesizing, even if she did prefer the cleaner option of her place on occasion. He’d stroke her hair and tell her she wasn’t crazy. She’d kiss his cheeks and tell him he was loved.

It was everything she wanted.

_You can allow yourself one moment of not being numb_.

Spreading her skirt on his bed, Betty lowers herself against his pillow, overwhelmed with his scent. It isn’t _pleasant_ , per say, but it is home. Nostalgic. Bracing herself against a flood of emotions, she closes her eyes. Tentatively, she reaches for his written work. It feels like reading his diary.

_ Just the first paragraph should be all right. _

Of course it’s about an outsider, she smiles to herself. She’s used to marking his work with a red pen, rubbing his scalp to comfort the corrections. He used to look at her with a skeptical smile as she’d reach out, “I just have one suggestion-“

“You always do,” he’d roll his eyes.

And sometimes they’d look up and their breath would catch, unable to look away. Reaching for one another, they’d leave the papers aside, suddenly caught in this magnetic pull that drew their bodies together.

This was where he first touched her, she remembers, fingers spreading on the off-white sheets. He was nervous, and so afraid to even touch her warmth that she had to arch up into him.

 

_“Are you okay?” Jughead asks, somewhat alarmed._

_Neck braced under his arm, she smiles and sighs, moving his hand closer. “Yes, Jughead. I...yes.” Her reassuring, half-lidded gaze emboldens him._

_Surprised and intrigued, he lets his hand trail further. Moaning, she presses her breasts up against him. His heavy breath paints her neck in want as his fingers probe further into her._

_“God, Betty Cooper…you are-“_

_A jolt of pleasure interrupts them, and she gasps into him, nails digging in._

_“Is that good?” he asks, absolutely enraptured. Oh, if only he wasn’t so pleased with himself. But his eyes are searching, studying her face as he works her, fascinated. Embarrassed but happy, she bites her lip until he presses her into a deep, probing kiss. His fingers rub and explore her, slow circles, then quick back-and-forths. She wonders how he learned to touch a girl. Probably reading, or Archie. But the red-head is the furthest thing from her mind when he curls a finger inside of her, eliciting a tight, coiling feeling brewing in her stomach._

_“Ah, Jughead.” Craving all of him, she leans up and kisses him, savoring the need between them. As he continues his ministrations, she gets needier, more desperate, and her fingers go from threading through his beautiful hair to rubbing against the hard front of his jeans._

_“Betty,” he warns, shifting. “I can’t-I can’t focus with you touching me.”_

_“I can’t focus with_ you _touching_ me _,” she giggles softly._

_“Point taken.” His eyes dilate, fixated on her mouth. It feels like all the air has left her lungs and replaced it with sweet, toxic want. Their lips realign, tongues gently probing, sliding across each other._

_Her right hand slips under his jeans, past his boxers and she marvels at how_ firm _it feels, almost like the fleshy part of his neck. Hissing, he gently pulls away, hips settling more as she grips him again. “Betts-“ he warns again, jerking involuntarily at her ministrations. “I’m…oh…god…”_

_They split apart when the trailer door nearly opens, a Serpent calling out, “Jug, you home?”_

_Her heart is beating fast—but not in the terrified way, when they faced down murderers. In a way that_ excites _her. When she turns to him, watching his lust-hazed eyes and swollen lips rake over her own, she knows that she’s just as hungry as he is. If only those damn Serpents…and her mom…wouldn’t interrupt them all the time._

 

Licking her lips, Betty lays back down against the bed, inhaling his scent.

_This is wrong._

_But what he doesn’t know, won’t hurt him._

Her fingers trace the path up her thigh, gently probing between her legs. She’s wet—much wetter than she was when Sweet Pea finished.

Maybe she needs her own fantasy fulfillment.

Her fingers trace slowly at her slit, amazed at how aroused she is just from being here again. She focuses on applying the wet, warm pressure to her body, her other hand tracing lightly over her breasts. Moaning, she digs her hips deeper into his mattress.

_This_ is power.

_This_ is control.

 

* * *

 

When she comes home, Chic is able to read her hazy expression. She assumes their parents aren’t home, because he asks outright, “It feels good, doesn’t it? Having that power over someone?”

Unable to meet his gaze, she nods. Her legs are still shaky. Throat dry, she asks, “Do you ever let people see this side of you?"

He scoffs. "What? Like a boyfriend. No. I keep them about a week, and move on. That's about all anyone's worth, in my opinion. You can't trust anyone to get too close."

She pauses, gnawing on her lip, wondering if she should even ask if she doesn't want to hear the answer. "Do you think people like us can be happy?”

He takes in her anxious, shaken frame. That weird, twitchy smile graces his lips again as he eyes her again from head to toe. “Maybe, little sister. But I wouldn’t bet on it.”

* * *

 

“I just touched myself,” she tells the anonymous man behind the screen, oddly feeling she’s not sharing anything of _significance_. Especially in the blue glow of the screen, her body illuminated, face obscured.

“Yeah? Oh baby, I’d like to touch myself for you. Is that okay?”

_Why is it always about them?_

“Yeah,” she says quietly, watching as the main gets to work, muttering dirty things under his breath. “You like that? You like that, huh? You dirty girl…”

It doesn’t _bother_ her, but it doesn’t feel right either. She just wants to close the screen on him and be done with it. She lets her mind wander to the soreness between her legs, aware that in fifteen minutes she has to get ready for Veronica’s first communion…put on the perfect, nice Catholic chic dress.

The man finishes and she barely notices.

“Was it good for you?” he asks.

Not quite up to lying, and hoping her body is enough in frame to see, she nods. “I have to go, sweetie. Be good.”

Closing the laptop, she puts her head in her hands and swipes off the wig. Everything around her feels sticky and gross and strangely annoying. She’s hooked up with multiple guys now, hasn’t she? They’ve crumbled before her? So why doesn’t she feel any better?

Her hand reaches for her phone, then tentatively thumbs over the contacts.

_I can’t call Jug._

Closing her eyes, she tries to think.

_Veronica would never look at me the same._

Although the judgment wouldn’t be there, the emotional shockwaves would. And she’d definitely tell Archie, who would probably have a heart attack or destroy her laptop in the process.

_Kev._

It’ll have to do, she sighs, dialing his number.

“What’s up, buttercup?” he chirps.

“I…need to tell you something, Kev. Something bad. Or…” she presses her hand against her temples. “Could you please come over?”

“Sure! We can ride to Veronica’s coronation together.”

“She’s not being queened, she’s being confirmed.”

“Same difference at a Lodge party-or so I’d assume.”

 

* * *

 

 

“It’s just…I feel like everything is spinning out of control.”

“With Jughead, camming, Chic, or…Sweet Pea?”

She shakes her head, just slightly, the wet glaze softening her eyes.

Sighing, Kevin wraps his arms around her, and the pressure makes her feel just a little bit better. “The course of true love never did run smooth. Trying to have sex when you’re still in love with someone else…that’s tough. It’s almost impossible”

The tears slide so fast down her cheek she’s not even fully aware it’s happening.

Choking back a sob, she buries her face in Kevin’s shoulder. Even though she feels awful, in a weird way, the combined pressure of Kevin’s arms and air heaving through her lungs is oddly satisfying. Even if she was filling with the void with sorrow…she was… _filling_ it.

After a few tender minutes of Kevin’s caressing hands at her hair, they lean apart. “Come on, Nancy Screw. Let’s get your sexy ass into a beautiful gown and celebrate your bestie’s commitment to God.”

Groaning, she drops her forehead on his shoulder.

For a moment she pauses, a small teary smile on her face. 

“What?” he asks, teasing.

“It’s just…maybe if Chic had _this_ …he wouldn’t feel as alone as I did.”

Kevin takes a deep breath in, hesitating. “Betty…I don’t know. Jughead had us as an inner circle and he still lied to you and jumped to the Serpent life to get beat into a gang. Some people feel the cold bite of life and just want another hit,” he shrugs. “You can’t save everyone. You’ve got to focus on making things right for yourself, whatever that may be.”

Swallowing, nodding, she wipes her face.

_Fill the void. With whatever that may be._

For Chic, it’s fantasies. Kevin, drama. Archie…music? Friendship? And Veronica…she’s just focused on being the best she can be. Betty admires that about her. She wishes she could be that way. Free.

And Jug…

She shakes her head, sniffing and starting to get ready. “I don’t know, Kev. I don’t know if I can ever make it right—if I can ever fill this void inside of me.”

His face squishes in a smile.

“What?” she asks, terse.

“Betty, you’re always trying to make things right. Just…forget about the deep dark truth for a minute, and spend some time with your friends. I know we never get to be _normal_ around here, but that’s just one of the many charms of Riverdale…as are you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I had Betty stay in the safe zone with Sweet Pea for NOW. She's used to men begging her for release at this point, and decides she likes him enough to give it to him, but not by her hand. Just imagining him kneeling while she flashes him her lingerie in an overcoat makes me feel like, "Yeah. That's something Betty would do for fun." I do think she's getting over some hangups at this point and embracing that it's not just WHAT you want, it's WHO you want. Sexual experiences don't always mean you had a connection, which helps her frame what she really wants. Also she's like a level 5 creeper for sneaking into his bedroom but she's venturing into the dark side so why not? Do you want SP and Betty to have more exploration in the future? I'm leaving it open for now. EDIT: They got a [separate steamy fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16077389) but please keep reading this one and let me know what you think ^-^


	5. Bittersweet Symphony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty attends Veronica's first communion with the gang. Jughead Jones, while more sullen than usual, seems especially keen on making amends.

“Betty,” Jughead nods, clearly exhausted. He moves right past Kevin and Archie to take his place in the pew next to the blonde, displacing them all to squeeze together. Kevin glances over at her, and she manages to raise her eyebrows in return.

_I don’t know how_ ** _I_** _feel, how am I supposed to know how_ ** _he_** _feels?_

“Oh my god, is he wearing that beanie to a church?” Kevin whispers to Archie, who shakes his head, pursing his lips and starting straight ahead at Mr. Lodge.

Betty takes in a deep breath and tries to steady her heartbeat now that Jug’s thigh is pressed against her leg.

_Don’t be an idiot. You’ve seen a lot more of a lot more than a sullen Jughead in a suit._

He ignores their minor chatter about the sheer ornamentation of it all, staring glumly at the back of the pew ahead.

“You, uh, wanna read the Bible, Jug?” Betty teases lightly.

Sighing, he can’t bring himself to look over at her.

“I’m sure we could all use a refresher,” she smiles.

“No thanks.” He’s humorless tonight. “By the way, the Serpents did _not_ help with the flyers. It’s a long story. Sorry,” he sighs, wringing his hands through his hair, under his cap.

Her eyes narrow, wondering if she should tell him she already knows. That would involve a conversation she doesn’t want to have. Besides, if he knew about Sweet Pea, he’d probably interrupt Veronica's ceremony.

“Don’t worry, Jug. I called he guy at the scrapyard and he said he’ll do some digging tonight, so don’t…abandon all hope, ye who enter here.” He manages a brief smirk and looks back and his shoes.

She turns back to Kevin and Archie, quietly filling in on Veronica's family. As Kevin is pointing out a cousin who looks just like Antonio Banderas, Betty puts her hand on Jughead’s knee. It’s meant to be comforting. She feels him tense, then relax underneath it with a deep sigh. As the lights dim, she puts her hands back in her lap and shifts, smiling wide for the first time in what feels like weeks.

It’s all sort of sweet, really, Josie and Veronica singing “Bittersweet Symphony,” Veronica practically glowing in white tailored dress. If Archie was up there with her, Betty would swear it’d make a nice faux-wedding photo. She decides to offer her services later as photographer extraordinaire, even though the Lodges have almost certainly hired two of them.

 

_“And I’m a million different people from one day to the next…I can’t change my mold, no no no no…'Cause it's a bittersweet symphony this life. Try to make ends meet, you're a fool for money then you die...”_

 

Kevin glances over at Betty, and they both put their hands over their hands in awe at the extravagance. 

The words of the song slowly make sense to Betty, especially in context. 

 

_“Well I never pray,_

_But tonight I'm on my knees, yeah._

_I need to hear some sounds that recognize the pain in me, yeah._

_I let the melody shine, let it cleanse my mind, I feel free now.”_

_But the airwaves are clean and there's nobody singing to me now.”_

 

The song gets less hopeful, but as it swells, she can’t help but reach out and grasp the hands of the boys on either side of her. She’d grab Kevin too, if she had another arm for him. Archie smiles, squeezing back. Jughead flinches, surprised. She can feel his gaze hot on her instead of the ceremony ahead. He’s trembling.

Risking it, she turns to glance at him. It’s stormy in those eyes again, conflicted, trying to understand something way beyond their years.

“Do you know the last lyrics of this song?” he murmurs, and she hesitates, leaning towards him.

“No, what? Something about the dangers of capitalism?”

Swallowing, his gaze attempts to stay trained on her eyes, but it flickers to her lips more than once.“It’s just sex and violence melody and silence.” He pauses, reading her wary reaction. “Kinda inappropriate for a ceremony renouncing the devil, right?”

Betty’s eyes flicker to that soft mouth. What she wouldn’t give to be able to lean in, kiss him, and make him feel good again. Instead, she bites her lips from smiling. “It is a Lodge that picked the song. Are you sure that’s what it’s saying in the end?”

Nervous, he nods. “I looked it up.”

Now she’s giggling. A few people turn. Jughead flashes a weary smile in her direction before turning back to the ceremony.

When the song dies down for the priest to talk, they exchange a knowing glance. They cut out the sex and violence part.

_I should probably let go...of their hands._

But these hands in hers were her best friends for so long. She takes one extra second to count her blessings, slowly releasing Archie and Jug. As they’re shifting, Jughead hovers close for just a second longer to whisper in her ear. “The song…it’s about society, you know? Wanting to change your path and being forced into it by these stupid rules and regulations.”

Betty contemplates it, eyes shifting to the beaming socialite up front, aware Veronica’s searching for Archie in the crowd.

“I think it’s about being conflicted,” Betty nods, whispering. “You want things—yourself—to be one way but a lot of times they end up being another. Sometimes you feel like people understand you but other times you can feel completely...alone.” She feels Jughead’s gaze warming her cheek, making her blush.

“It’s about clarity!” Kevin hisses across from them. “And if you will please shut up, as there is a ceremony going on in front of us!”

“Yeah guys,” Archie chides. “I love music, but this is more important.”

Flushing, Betty settles down in her seat, determined not to look at Jughead again. “He probably doesn’t even know what Verve means,” Jughead mutters. Oh, this grumpy boy. Shaking her head with a smile, Betty refuses to engage with him for the rest of the ceremony, although he definitely makes it more enjoyable.

* * *

 

“Oh my god, I felt like my heart stopped,” Kevin sighs dreamily, sighing. The lobby is gorgeous, food everywhere, tables for cocktails with a large buffet.

“I think we all know where Jughead’s headed,” Archie smirks, glancing sidelong at his friend.

Betty smiles, glancing at the slouching boy in black. The group takes in everything, wandering from room to room. She spots the flash of a photographer and remembers.

“Oh, Archie-“ she starts, lacing her arm through his. “I wanted to ask if you wanted me to take a picture of you and Veronica.”

“Yeah. If we can find her,” he huffs nervously, eyes scanning the crowd for his angel. Rolling her eyes, she fades back and looks around. Jughead’s gone, she realizes, but she doesn’t worry too much.

_He hates parties. He’s not_ normal.

Although her internal monologue is edging on sarcastic when remembering the birthday party fiasco, she smothers the negative thoughts (Kevin’s orders) and gets herself a drink. She can always check on him later.

After a few minutes, Archie is still fidgeting, scoping out for the Lodges.

_Good thing he doesn’t self-harm._

“Archie, you’ll be fine,” Betty chuckles sweetly, hand grazing his forearm to calm him down. Who knows where Kevin is at this point? “Veronica wanted you here, and I’m sure things will smooth over. It can’t be any worse than when Jughead met—“ she swallows the memory, her mother grilling and insulting her then-boyfriend and his father just before the dance.

“Alice Cooper doesn’t have an underground mafia.”

“Yet,” she admonishes, raising her eyebrows and taking another drink. Archie doesn’t think it’s funny.

As if on cue, Veronica parts the crowd big smile on her face. Squealing, Betty reaches out and hugs her, brushing Archie aside. “Congratulations, V!”

“Thanks,” Veronica smiles happily, releasing Betty to put a hand out for her boyfriend. “Would you allow me to steal my boyfriend away for a minute?” 

_Steal your boyfriend? Ha…_

“Of course,” she says, “He’s yours to steal,” she laughs, feeling embarrassed and flustered for getting so excited. It’s Kevin’s fault for getting her those confidence-boosting cosmos. “I was gonna go find Jug anyways.” Archie and Veronica blink at her, confused. The silent, “Again? For what?” hovers over them.

_They do know we’re still…friends?_

Betty smiles awkwardly, holding up her phone. “Oh, I was going to take your picture.”

Fingers trembling ever-so-slightly, Betty manages to get her best friends to pose for a cute photo. “You look so beautiful together,” she sighs, sharing the photo with Veronica.

“Do you want me to take one of you with…” Veronica hesitates, looking around. “Where’s Kevin?”

Waving her hand, Betty starts to back away. _Is my singleness so bad that no one wants to stand by me unless I’m wearing leather?_ “I’ll be fine. Seriously. Better find those boys. You go. Mingle. I’ll see you soon.”

“Not before I get one with you, B,” Veronica insists, making Archie take a photo of the girls, then all three of them in a selfie because he has the longest arms.

Veronica, sensing Betty’s growing anxiety, still a little nervous about the Very Barchie Christmas moment, kisses her cheek. “Thanks, Betty. Enjoy, okay?”

Nodding, suppressing the urge to dig her nails, she watches her best friends disappear into the crowd. Taking a shaky breath, she looks around. Kevin isn’t on the first floor, and where the hell is Jug?

One of what she assumes are Veronica’s cousins approaches her. “Hey, beautiful. I hear you’re one of Veronica’s best friends. A writer. I'm impressed.” He seems nice. Dark hair, brown eyes, but not nearly as toned as Sweet Pea, nor with as good of hair. He’s a little older, maybe college-age?

_Will you stop comparing all bodies to each other? They’re beautiful in their own way. You’re either interested or you’re not._

“Hi, I’m Betty Cooper,” she introduces herself, putting out her hand. To her surprise, he goes in for a brief kiss on her knuckles. “Oh, uh…I forgot, the Lodge family can be very affectionate.”

The giggle at her own joke bubbles nervously through her, and she’s trying to suppress the imagery of Veronica’s cheerleading kiss.

The cousin twists his neck, bemused by her sweet embarrassment. “Fernando. The pleasure is mine. Would you like to dance?”

Her mouth pulls back in an almost-smile as she looks around again for her friends. It’s not like she has anywhere to be…

“Why not?” she allows, and lets Fernando lead her to the dance floor. She feels pretty and pink and for some reason can’t stop thinking about how she feels about Duckie in the movie and his odd fashion sense. Was she rooting for him, against him?

“So what is my cousin like with her school friends?”

“Determined,” Betty repeats, eyebrows raising. He laughs easily. “She’s amazing, really. She brings a certain amount of sophistication to Riverdale. Sophistication, confidence, and grace,” she nods, correcting herself.

“Yes, we are known for our hospitality...and our amazing dance moves," he confides cheekily.

Laughing wholeheartedly, she agrees. “Veronica won a dance-off for our cheerleading team. Unanimously. So what are your moves, Fernando?”

Wiggling his eyebrows, he slides her out for a spin. “You shall see, Betty Cooper.”

Fernando is easy and fun and new. There’s no Lodge manipulation that she detect, just the ego of a typical Lodge man, if a little more whimsy. They shimmy for a few songs, and her smile is polite, but occasionally delves into actual joy.

“So what do you think of Riverdale?” she asks, genuinely curious.

His mouth twists into the equivalent of a noncommittal shrug. “Riverdale seems like it’s obsessed with the past.” At her shocked expression, he continues, “I’m a man of the _now_. I think that’s why Veronica and I get along so well. Her father is a man of the future. I don’t know how any of that will work in a town like this. People should leave the past where it is, _behind._ ”

It’s like he’s knocked the breath out of her, and she can’t help but let her hands fall off his shoulders.

“Oh, Betty! I don’t mean to insult Riverdale.” Still reeling, thinking of how much she’s had to wade through Riverdale’s past, and her own, she starts to back up. He holds her tighter. “Come on, let me make up for it. What’s one dance scene you’ve practiced forever? Dirty Dancing?”

Her head shakes, and she misses the whip of her ponytail. “No, I was more of a _Grease_ girl myself.”

“Ah,” he nods. After counting off a few steps, he grabs her hand and begins the Danny Zuko and Sandra Dee celebratory hand jive dance from the movie.

_Is he for real?_

The legitimate attempt to reconcile with her is baffling, but she goes along with it for as many of the steps she remembers, following his lead. He takes her hand and tucks it into the back of his pants to hold on.

_Kinda cheeky, even if it is from the movie._

They start to parade around the dance floor. “And here comes Cha-Cha!” Kevin announces, grabbing Betty and dragging her away, grinning madly into his arms. “Where have you been?” she squeals, still attempting to ground herself as they spin.

“Aw, come on. Someone has to be my Cha-Cha,” Fernando protests. “Otherwise you’re just that guy—Sonny—who takes Sandy off.”

“Calm down, Danny, here I come,” Kevin rolls his eyes, always eager to make a new fashionable friend.

Watching them do the dramatic, ridiculous dance fills her with such joy that she has to hide her blush. Something draws her attention, and it’s a lonely boy on a balcony.

She feels like she’s drifting again, hovering just half a step out of her body as she drags herself to the balcony stairwell.

The dark, lanky figure of Jughead looms over her, watching.

“Hey, Juliet,” she says softly, unable to hide her smile.

His eyes light up, intrigued but tired. “If it isn't Sandy...”

“What happened to Romeo?’”

Shifting to cradle his elbows, he screws up his eyes in thought. “Sandy gets the guy in the end.” She stiffens, not sure how to respond, but resumes climbing the stairs. “Kevin makes a great Cha-Cha, by the way.”

“I know.” Smiling, she leans her back against the bannister, waiting for him to ream her dancing skills. But he doesn’t seem to know what to say.

“Hey, it’s not like Jughead Jones to avoid a free buffet,” she tries, fluffing her skirt, watching the way his eyes rake her arms.

His head drops in a nod. “I’ve got my mind on something else.”

“Something snakey?” she sighs.

_How many times can we sigh? Just say what you mean, Cooper. You have Kevin’ s cosmos, Fernando’s dance moves, and your own fierceness to work with._

Straightening, Jughead nods. It probably doesn’t even occur to him that she could think it’s Toni.

“I broke one of the codes. They’re going—they’re deciding if they’re going to kick me out. This statue thing was my last hope. I…” he pauses, prepping himself to confess. She waits, suppressing as much in her face as she can. That doesn’t stop her nails from testing her skin. “I was tricked into delivering some drugs. I got Archie dragged into it too. Now my Dad has to take over. The woman…Penny…she—I cut her, Betty. She’s a Serpent, and I harmed her. The same thing I was yelling at Sweet Pea about? I did it to another Serpent.”

“What do you mean?”

His eyes flicker to hers, cautious at the husky change in her tone.

“I took a pocket knife and cut out her tattoo, Betty.” Momentarily breathless, she has to lean back against the bannister. She blinks, attempting to ground herself, focusing on her friend.

_Is this a turn on or not? Jughead Jones, disgraced Serpent._

Emboldened by her strong disposition, he steps towards her, unleashing a rant as only Jughead can. “And the worst part is — none of it even matters. She’s back. She’s ruining lives, and she’s going to ruin ours. I mean, first she’ll take away the Serpents, then she’ll come after you…Archie…when does it stop? When does this ever stop?” he asks, slamming his palm into the bannister.

“Juggie,” she says softly, taking his hand in her own, soothing him.

His tortured eyes meet hers, and it feels like the world around her stills. “Breaking up with you…and pretty much every decision since, has been the worst decision of my life. I thought I could protect the people I care about, and I can’t. I just screw it up even more.”

Ignoring her heart pounding against her ribcage, Betty nods, stroking his hand and wrist. Her mind is racing, remembering the Black Hood’s treacherous phone calls, how she told Archie to tell Jughead to stay away for a few days, and it spinning out of control into what they are now.

Taking her silence as comfort, Jughead moves closer, his other hand tracing her jawline. “She said every Serpent has a soft underbelly, and that you’re mine.”

His earnest eyes drift to her parted lips, and she’s almost tempted to lean into it.

_It would be so easy to fall back into this._

“Jug—“ she starts, pulling back. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

Her phone buzzes against her waist.

She glances up from the notification. “It’s the scrapyard. They found the head.”

A stunned frown isn’t the response she’s expecting, but she herself doesn’t really know what to do.

“Let’s…go get that head,” she quips, attempting a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay even though Bittersweet Symphony is an amazing song, I could not stop giggling at the thought of the actual lyrics being sung in a church. Also, is it too much to ask for a few shots of Betty and Jughead dancing at one of the million events they go to? And no, the serpent dance doesn't count!


	6. You Could Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Temporarily clearing the name of the Serpents doesn't help Betty figure out what to do when Jughead wants to reconcile. But when his hand finds her thigh, and those stormy blues find her eyes, she's hooked. She'll stay. For tonight, she'll stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here there be semi-conflicted smut. Enjoy!

They sit in his trailer, exhausted. She’s drooping a little bit, her energy waning but her posture still upright. He’s sunken back into the couch, his shirt already half-unbuttoned in an effort to look more relaxed for the Serpents.

She’s quiet, trying to suppress the _I told you so_ that the Serpents were involved in something shady. She’s suppressing a lot at the moment.

 

_Jughead dumped me to protect me. Ironic, considering what he said when I did the same to him._

_Does he still love me?_

_Is he staying with the Serpents? What does that mean for us?_

_He said he can’t be with them and with me._

_But now he said I’m one of them…why? Why THIS time did it stick that I want to be by his side? That I **AM** by his side?_

_To be honest...sometimes I wonder... **should** I be?_

 

It’s been a long night, and she isn’t sure if she’s numb or tired or a little bit of both. Jughead hasn’t attempted to kiss her since the balcony scene, although he did squeeze her hand in gratefulness when they rode back over to the White Wyrm, triumphantly heralding the statue head like Perseus with Medusa. And they got Tallboy and Penny, the real ones who sabotaged and framed the Serpents. 

But she knows better. She knows the politics of Riverdale. She knows the stories her parents have covered for years on turf wars, political or gang-related. The greedy all circled around like ravenous wolves, ready to strike when anyone was at their weakest. They wanted a war, and they were going to keep gnawing at Riverdale until they got it--unless people like her and Jughead stopped them and the senseless hatred and greed festering at the heart of the town. Even the thought of the battle exhausted her.

When Tallboy called her out for being a North-sider, Jughead snapped, “She’s here because she’s one of us!”

Surprised, she’d only taken a breath and refocused on the situation at hand. Should she be flattered? Why did she have to be one of anything? Why couldn't she just be fighting for what's right?

Sweet Pea was there, lurking in the crowd, but mercifully he let her have her space. She might have felt a glower or two at seeing Jughead enter with her, but thankfully he kept his mouth shut.

_He was a good boy in front of his friends._

_His knees were probably sore from begging._

_That’s not helping._

 

Blinking slowly, she tries to register what she needs to do next. The Lodges. So Jughead will want her to talk to Veronica. As she opens her mouth to speak, Jughead finally bursts, fingers running through his beanie-less hair. He’s probably running on adrenaline from winning his family back…for now.

“Well, we may not have saved the park yet but we did save the day. I may be on probation—whatever that means—but I’m just…thank you. We got rid of two _very_ dangerous people in Riverdale.”

“We,” she chuckles somewhat darkly, a smile playing on her lips. Jughead and Betty  _are_ the dangerous ones in Riverdale...at least against corruption. Otherwise people wouldn't be threatening them so much. It meant they were on the right track. Her fingers run through her falling hair. “It’s nice to hear that again.”

His gaze falters, watching her hair slide through her fingers. It works him up again, and he slaps his leg in frustration. “Look, I'll be apologizing for it for the rest of my life, but I'm sorry. I am. Feeling like I needed to shield you from what I was going through with the Serpents or my darkness.”

Stiffening, her fingers find the crescent scars on her palms. “I can handle it.”

He sighs, nodding in earnest. “I know. I know you can.”

They both fidget, staring at the floorboards of the trailer.

She sits, waiting, dazed. Were they…? Reconciling? She isn’t even sure how she feels about it. She loves Jughead, yes, she wants him, but—

“I should probably start heading home,” she says finally, the tiredness thickening her words. It’s only a second, but she doesn’t get up. Something holds her in place.

_Why…don’t I want to leave?_

It’s his chin that gives him away, quivering towards her. “Or you could stay.”

_I don’t—I don’t know what to do. I just watched a Serpent jack himself off today and did it to myself on your bed. In your trailer. Which I broke into._

_That's crazy, right?_

But suddenly Jughead is incensed, motivated, turning towards her, pretty blue eyes locked onto her. “Stay.” The weight of his hand on her thigh, even through her dress, is enough to make her reconsider.

_This all feels so unsteady. Today he wants me, but what about tomorrow?_

_What will I want?_

Slowly looking up from his hand to his face, Betty realizes that she can have her moment. She can have her Romeo.

Without another word, she clambers across the couch and straddles his lap. He kisses her like he’s been drowning, all open, wet, gasping, fingers dragging through her hair. It’d be sweet if it wasn’t so slow, if they weren’t both so tired.

To her surprise, he almost immediately unzips her dress, pulling it down to expose and worship her skin underneath.

The dress falls to her hips, and somehow even that makes it feel like a huge weight is off her shoulders. She wants to take her time, knowing how desperate he is for her touch. His hands tenderly roam across her back, caressing her smooth skin.

_ Is this really happening? _

Neither of them wants to make a noise, just in case _someone_ dares interrupt them. No Serpents tonight. No mothers. No fathers.

His grip shifts lower, pulling her hips towards him so she can grind on his budding erection.

_Pure as the driven snow—_

“Wait, wait, wait—“ she murmurs, gently pushing his shoulders, even as he cups her ass.More kisses bite along her shoulders and neck, drawing a gasp. She wrangles her elbows under his, creating just enough leverage to keep him at bay while keeping her hands on his face. “I need to tell you something.”

He breaks away reluctantly, eyes still dazed with want. “Wh—what? What is it?”

Surprised, she studies is expression. He’s so… _longingly terrified._ His eyes dart back and forth, brow knitted with worry, even as her fingers gently stroke his neck.

It’s reminds her of when he first told her he loved her. That raw, open heart, ready to be ripped out in a moment’s notice. They almost consummated then, too. All joy, all kisses and hope and determination that justice would prevail, and they were just one win away from everything. There was someone…one person…who wasn’t going to leave him, even when he pushed her away.

The thought makes her stomach churn.

_I do love you, Jug._

The truth is a bitter pill. Not that she loves him, but that she can’t ruin this moment by being honest with him. They’ll do this dance of omission just a little longer. She’ll reveal herself piece by piece so he can take it. This poor, sweet, tortured boy _loved_ her, and she loved him. And that was something she hadn’t fully explored.

Before he can ask again, his pulse pounding through his neck, Betty shakes her head softly, aware her hair is probably framing her like a halo to Jughead’s longing gaze.

_I’m not a savior. But I can try to be. Tonight._

“Nothing,” she reassures him quietly, letting her fingers drop to his collar. His enraptured gaze never leaves her face, never even blinks as he absorbs her every word. “I just want you,” she smiles softly, a little sadly, gently moving his shirt with her thumbs to see a little more skin. He breathes a smile of relief, wonder.

“I want all of you…tonight,” she finishes, and he seems so grateful that he could cry. Hiding his passion, he breathes against her chest, angling upwards to capture her lips. Their arms wrap around one another, his movements slow. It feels like he wants to make _love._

It’s felt that way before, but always wth the starry-eyed hopes that high school love will last forever. He knows now that the could lose her. That he has lost her. That he’ll lose her again. So his kisses take on a lingering appreciation for all that she is tonight.

She wants him to pick her up and carry her to the bedroom, like he did when they made out on the kitchen counter, but he seems just as exhausted as she does. Horny, sure, but exhausted nonetheless.

They start grinding, a deep ache turning to a burning desire. His hand guides her from the small of her back. “Jughead,” she repeats quietly. “I want you.”

Moaning into her neck, Jughead grasps her ass and gets up, half-lifting her with him. They all but crash into his bedroom, a tangle of clothes and limbs. Creeping out of her dress, Betty takes to unbuttoning Jughead’s shirt, fully aware that he tries to gaze at her between each kiss. Finally, they tear the shirt away, and in a weirdly cohesive moment they pause, taking it all in. Aware this is the moment they’ve been careening towards for some time, Betty takes her sweet time unfurling Jughead’s belt, pulling her lips away when he leans in to kiss them. He waits, panting, hands still clinging to her hips as she pries away all he has to hide from the world.

_It’s just flesh, Cooper._

_No—it’s—_

His soulful eyes burn into her once more and then they’re kissing, his fingers prying away at the clasp of her bra, edging her out of it and pulling her flush against him. The sensation of rubbing against his warm chest stimulates her nipples to the point she gasps. Emboldened, Jughead kisses at her neck and collar bone, biting as they peel away the last remnants of clothing between them.

_It’s everything._

His eyes consume her body, hovering, memorizing.

_He wants to immortalize this moment. Because you’re so pure. So perfect._

The thought makes her nauseous, so she gets down on her knees, sucking his abdomen intermittently. The hiss of his breath is enough to make her pretty eyes fix on him as she takes him in her hands, her mouth. His eyelids flutter, losing control. The act itself fills her with adrenaline, and the hum in her throat desperately wants this to work.

“Betts—“ he murmurs, fingers entwining her hair into an almost-ponytail to keep it out of her face. With a long moan, she sucks her mouth fully along him. Practically vibrating, he pulls back as if pausing this pleasure is physically painful.

Everything feels hazy, out of focus in the most beautiful way possible as he supports her back and lays her down against the mattress. His hot, lingering kisses on her skin increase only make it harder for her to focus. Normally this kind of intensity is only found when she inflicts pain, allowing her to block everything out. With Jughead, she's acutely aware of every nerve ending and blissfully unaware of everything else. She arches with bursts of sensation, which intensify as the wet marks trail from the scars on her palms to her breasts, circling on the nipples, all the way down to her thighs, where he pauses at her center.

Shifting, she wonders if this is more than _not everything_. It must be, because Jughead looks at her with adoring awe, lusty determination.

When his mouth presses against her folds, her eyes close against the powerful sensation of being consumed by pleasure. Heat vibrates through her, and he has to hold her hips to keep her down. Even though the trailer walls are thin, she’s not sure she can keep quiet, gasping as he caresses her with his tongue. When he sucks her clit, moaning, she sees white, and shoves her fingers in his hair just to remember where she is. At that moment she looks down to see his eyes fixed on her, determined, fierce.

“Jug—“ she nearly whimpers, voice thick.

He hoists her hips up higher, her legs on his shoulders, and the new angle presses his chin against her in a way that makes her want to contract every muscle in her body until pleasure consumes her. 

Feeling herself coil into the building pressure, she digs her nails past his hair and into her palms. It sends her over the edge, careening past caring how perfect she is when she comes undone. Jughead is so used to eating without taking a breath that all he notices is an inordinate amount of trembling and Betty’s clenched, beautiful face. He slows his ministrations, eyes carefully fixed on his beloved.

After coming down from the waves of pleasure, Betty takes a few steadying breaths and opens her eyes to find Jughead’s curious one perched between her legs.

“Stop,” she breathes, gently smoothing his hair back. Anxiety stiffens his posture, backing away onto his knees, waiting for what’s next. Betty wonders why she doesn’t want to slap his face. She just wants to caress it, even as his hand drifts further from her thighs.

Swallowing the urge, she asks, “Do you have protection?”

Stunned, he nods. She waits a moment, slowly shifting onto her knees as he slips into the bathroom and returns with a foil packet. It twirls between his nervous fingers.

“Betty, I—“ he starts, voice trembling.

“Sit,” she says gently, not quite an order. He does, his back against the makeshift headboard.

_I want to take care of you._

She shakes her head at the thought, gently caressing just behind his jawline. There’s that sweet lean into her hand. Because her heart is still racing, still aching, she pours herself into a kiss, mouth open. At the feel of a gentle hand on her waist, she knows she’s ready, and gestures for him to put on the condom. He fumbles with it briefly, which comforts her.

As she straddles his lap, their mouths and eyes so close, his so afraid—

_Afraid this will change everything—_

She slides down onto him and embraces the discomfort, making room for him within herself.

_There is no void,_ she thinks dully, almost as if she’s drunk.

“I want to see you,” Jughead whispers softly. Her eyes snap open. The storm in his eyes is steady against her. She didn’t even realize she’d closed her eyes. He’s studying her again, his palm against her cheek. His other hand is just under her shoulder blade, gently keeping her as flush as they can be. It’s like he’s afraid she’ll fall apart in his arms. Nodding dimly, she keeps moving.

_I don’t want to hurt you_ , she sees him ache in his eyes.

_You already have. And I’m fine,_ she tries to convey silently.

Finally getting the rhythm of her hips, she tries to remember what feels good. Jughead’s stifled gasps are punctuated with him moving a hand to her bottom, a kiss to her chest. The fullness of it all is overwhelming. Tilting her head back to get more air, Betty gasps at Jughead’s hot mouth sucking on her exposed neck. Her fingers dig into his scalp. The sharp change does something to him, and with a few shuddering, violent hip jerks, he comes.

Betty feels an odd sense calm as he settles, his heart still pumping so hard he can barely open his eyes. When he finally does, he still looks dazed.

It’s sweet, the way she’s taken his breath away. She leans forward, allowing a sweet, tender kiss with her Romeo. Satisfied, still somehow frowning, Jughead draws her head against his shoulder to hold her a few minutes longer.

Sliding away, Betty can’t suppress a small smile at Jughead’s disposition. He’s an absolute mess. Hair swishes every which way, sweat prickling his skin, a damp condom being swiped off his relaxing flesh. She did that. She made him come undone. And they were each other's firsts, which was absurdly, wonderfully romantic.

“What are you smiling about?” Jughead smirks, the first bit of genuine amusement lighting his eyes in a while.

She shakes her head, smiling to herself. “I’m going to go get cleaned up.”

“What?” he asks again with a full-on grin.

A warmth radiates within her for a second. “You look absolutely ravaged.”

“I was! You should look in the mirror," he teases, still seated as she retreats to the bathroom, clothes in hand.

“And whose fault is that?”

Their soft laughter can still be heard through the walls. She takes this moment to herself, trying to see if she looks different. Flushed, and her hair is a little messy, that’s for sure. But there’s something else. She’s glowing, as if the world’s greatest skincare regimen is sex and sweat.

_I look beautiful._

Jughead stirs in the other room, prompting her to use the bathroom before he has to. The creamy, rust-colored blood spatter she wipes away makes her eyes widen. Suppressing her fear, she quickly uses the soap and water to clean herself up.

_It’s only because it was your first time. It’s fine. You’re fine._

Jughead enters the bathroom without knocking, making her jump back as if she’s been stung. He greets her with a lopsided smile. “Feeling shy?”

“I’m not ready for you to see all _that,_ ” she rolls her eyes, going back to the sink to finish washing her hands. She thinks most of the blood is gone.

"I don't think anything you do could disgust me," he says, and his voice is low enough that it makes her blush, turning her head. Her shyness makes him grin. “Just disposing of the evidence,” he nods, reaching around her to the trash can. Her eyes hover on his hand, but the condom itself only seems tinted in pink. Maybe he didn’t notice?

As if sensing her anxiety, he wraps his arms around her, kissing her cheek and looking at their reflection in the mirror. “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah,” she nods, trying to meet the other-him’s gaze. Reflections were such odd things. She’s been looking for imperfections her whole life, but right now she can’t find a single one. Every mole, every hair, every pore seems in place.

Nuzzling against her soft hair and neck, Jughead smiles. She wishes she could keep this moment forever.

“So you’ll stay?” he asks, pressing a kiss against her jaw.

Everything in her ripples, loosening his grasp. She turns from their reflection to the real Jughead and kisses him apologetically. “I can’t. Mom will send a hunting party.”

“Tell her you’re at Veronica’s,” he pleads, kissing her face. She wants to give in to his request, just bask in the afterglow with him.

_ Alice Cooper will literally bust down this door and search for used condoms. _

Moaning, she pushes him away. “I can’t. I want to, but I can’t.”

He fake-groans against her skin as she pushes him away, teasing. Ever the gentleman, he helps her get back into her dress, smirking all the while. He pulls her into a hug every few seconds, and she feels like something is finally _normal_ in her life. Well, by normal, she meant void of murderous or investigative impulses. _Sweet_. It was sweet. He stays shirtless while they get ready, much to her pleasure. Jughead isn’t much for going shirtless around the house, but she is hoping their latest dalliance might change that. Her fingers linger on his abdomen as they make their way outside.

His fingers curl into hers, as if they more they tangle, the less likely they are to part. “Are you sure you have to go? I could give you a ride," his head tilt and lopsided smile are enough to make her moan in the back of her throat. She may not want to slap him, but she does want to rake her nails down his back.

_ Maybe next time. _

“I’m sure. I don’t think a motorcycle seat is the best thing for me right now,” she admits shyly, smoothing her dress.

Jughead’s low chuckle makes her blush. “Fair enough.” He studies her, a small smile on those devilish lips. She feels herself floating again, just a little bit out of her body, and he must sense it because he grasps the back of her neck for one last goodbye kiss.

It feels surreal, to have him protectively, lovingly, watch her pull out of the trailer park. She feels like she’s leaving home. She’s too busy smiling to check how many missed calls she has from “Home” in her phone.

 


	7. The Bad Stuff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are more terrifying things to come home to than a missed curfew and Alice Cooper. Betty's momentary joy is buried in a bloody kitchen. At school, Jughead and the gang try to siphon out the reason for her sudden withdrawal. At this point, Betty isn't sure she'll ever escape the whirlpool of destruction that seems to follow her family and the people of Riverdale.

When Betty gets home, she's careful to hold the handle of the door until it closes so the latch doesn't make too much noise. Still glowing, Betty peers into the hall mirror to see if she looks any different from when she was Jughead’s.

_Nope. Still perfect._

Hope swelling in her chest, she smiles. A squelching noise breaks the spell--something must be moving in the kitchen. _There’s nothing to be afraid of_ , she has to remind herself. At this point, a lecture about curfew won’t ruin the startling day she just had. In fact, she might want to talk to her Mom about it—tell her the good news, even if she doesn’t see it that way. If it's Chic...well...at the very least, she can tell him there's hope.

“Mom?” she calls out tentatively.

“Betty?! Oh my god! Lock the door!”

At Alice’s alarmed tone, Betty rushes towards the kitchen. Her mother is on her hands and knees, yellow gloves in stark contrast to the blood spreading all over the kitchen floor.

“ _Mom?!”_ For a second Betty thinks Alice has been hurt. But then she processes the dark figure of a stranger, curled motionless on the floor, and Chic’s quiet whimpering in the corner.

_It’s all falling apart._

Something rips in Betty Cooper’s throat as she tries to call for her mother again, tears springing to her eyes. If moments ago any void had been filled within her, an entirely new universe of despair was torn open by the river of blood in her kitchen.

Alice scrubs the floor, the blood sloshing back and forth across her home. “This man attacked Chic—it was in self defense. Just—go upstairs, Betty!”

“Mom—I can’t…let me help you! We need to call the police!”

“No! Betty, I’m not having you get involved, just go!” Alice gestures dramatically, the blood she was trying to swipe away spreading thin between the cracks of the wood.

The imagery of cop cars pulling up to her house, carting off her Mom and Chic while her father watches on, shaking his head, is too much for her right now. Chic convulses, useless, in the corner.

_I brought him here. I'm responsible for this._

Horrified, but trying to maintain her composure, Betty stands firm. “Mom. I’m helping you. Tell me what to do.”

With a reluctant sigh, Alice points to the cleaning closet. “Go get some rubber gloves and bleach. We’re going to be in for a long night.”

 

_Everything needs to be perfect._

 

The mantra screeches in her head constantly as she wipes, pours, and scrubs. Even the basket of blood-red apples makes her pause, rubbing each to make sure there aren’t any fingerprints or blood spatter from Chic’s…incident.

_The incident? Is that what we’re calling it? Like some kid wet the bed at night?_

But Betty doesn’t have time to think about Chic, to think about Alice, or even to think about Jughead. All she can do is put on her coat, drag a dead body to an abandoned sewer pipe her Mom calls her “secret place” from her youth, deepening the void within her.

When it’s all done, Betty isn’t sure how long she stands in the shower. The scalding water beats down on her, turning her creamy flesh red. She’s fairly certain she’s crying, but her breathing stays steady, so she assumes the shock and exhaustion has taken over.

_Or maybe you’re going numb again._

_No. I’m definitely not numb…not to this._

 

Her face crashes on her pillow, and a mere two hours later awakens bleary-eyed to chocolate chip pancakes at the table.

For a moment, she wonders if she actually _has_ gone crazy. The surreal discontent of watching Alice insist she have breakfast amidst a pristine kitchen coupled Chic’s mask of indifference makes her want to vomit and go back to bed. But as the Fruity Berries tumble into a porcelain bowl, she’s haunted by memories of blood seeping into her kitchen floors underneath the body of a stranger. A firm knock at the front door draws her out of the flashback, and Betty’s so tightly wound that the bowl itself crackles to the floor, splintering into pieces.

“Betty!” Alice gasps, glancing from the just-bleached floors to her petrified daughter. “Ask who it is!”

As if in a dream, Betty goes towards the door to meet her fate. “Who is it?” Dread sinking throughout, rotting every bit of her being, she pulls the door open to meet the next monster.

“Hey.” To her shock and relief, it’s a bashful, nervous Jughead. He looks just like he did before he went to Southside High, blue jacket, grey beanie, nervous frown on his face. “I thought I’d walk you to school this morning, if that’s okay.”

“Y—yeah,” she nearly cries in relief. That seems to make him smile, although she can barely register it. It’s not the cops. She almost steps outside to walk with him, but his body blocking the door makes her realize, “Oh. I need to get dressed. I’ll—wait here.” She closes the door before he can protest, and Alice watches from the kitchen with her arms crossed. “It’s Jughead,” Betty announces quietly.

Chic studies her, entirely too curious. Alice puts up a warning finger in her direction.

“Don’t invite him in—the place still smells like bleach.”

“I know, mom. I have to go.”

“What about breakfast?”

_Really?_

 

Somehow managing to put herself together, Betty walks next to Jughead, holding the clear umbrella her mother suggests. She’d offer to share it with him if she wasn’t so focused on holding it steady. The trembling, nauseous feeling from last night hasn’t let up, and she’s fairly certain it’s not just the bleach or lack of sleep.

Without one of her hands available to hold, Jughead stuffs his fists into the pockets of his lined jacket. “So…I wanted to talk to you about last night.”

Anxiety swirls within her, and her hands are occupied, so she tries to release a breath.“What? Why? What about last night?” she asks, feeling every inch of her bundle up into nerves.

A little taken aback, Jughead furrows his brow. “Well it’s just…we had—or I thought we had, a really amazing night. But then you hung up on me so…I kinda got nervous.” His head swivels a little, hesitant to keep going.

Last night?

She vaguely remembers him calling her about ten minutes into the Chic debacle.

 

“ _Hey. I just wanted to say goodnight and…I love you.”_

He’d said it so proudly, like he’d been waiting years to work up to it. And really, they both had. Before her heart could swell and she could say it back, her bloodstained mother reappeared, gesturing for her to join her in the kitchen. “Betty! Your dad just said he’s coming over. I need you!”

_“Jug, I have to go. I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”_

She’d hung up, throwing her dress in the hamper and tried to find the most reasonable outfit for cleaning up a murder scene. Do you wear white? Or something you hate, so you can burn it after?

 

Letting out a deep sigh, Jughead looks away. “Maybe you thought we were moving too fast…or I don’t know,” he takes in a deep breath, as if the next thought is painful. “It wasn’t enjoyable?”

Gasping, Betty turns so fast to cup his cheek that she nearly slaps him with the umbrella. “Oh my god! No, not at all, Jug. Last night…” Images of blood fade to Jughead gazing up at her, of a happy, perfect couple looking in a mirror. It makes her want to smile and cry, but instead she brushes her thumb across his cheekbone. “…was _amazing_.” She means it, and he can tell, physically releasing all the tension in his shoulders. “Last night, just…when I got home…there was a lot of drama.”

“Let me guess, Chic-centric?” he half-smiles, already relieved, taking the umbrella off her hands to hold it over both of them. He’s ready to comfort her on some off-beat weirdness like her mother insisting she eat chocolate chip pancakes to make her new brother feel at home. But this is too heavy for right now, especially after last night, with how delicate things are between them.

Digging the pain deeper, she mutters, “Just typical Cooper lunacy.”

_And seriously. It is. This is in my blood, Jug. I’m in a family of nut jobs and murderers and…deviants. You don’t want to be with me._

He doesn’t press the issue, just glances over her with a bit more curiosity. Her head huddles down into the collar of her jacket.

“Activate turtle mode,” he laughs, teasing. Barely phased, Betty gives him a look.

At school, she doesn’t even see Sweet Pea glower in the direction of her and Jughead, who shakes off her umbrella and escorts her to her locker.

“See you later,” Jughead grins, kissing her cheek rather sweetly.

Betty blinks in gratitude, watching him leave before hoisting the rest of her books into her arms.

* * *

 

Sweet Pea keeps trying to get to her alone, but she’s got so many friends that act as a barrier that it makes it almost impossible. She’s distracted all day, foot tapping under her desk, eyes glazed.

Narrowing his eyes, Sweet Pea notes how she barely says anything all day. Finally during their lunch break, he corners the golden princess. For a second she doesn’t even seem to see him, so he snaps, “Hey, Blondie. You gonna walk all over me just because you got back with your boy Jughead?”

Blinking, startled, she looks up at him. “Excuse me?”

“What’s going on with you, princess? Last night you didn’t say a word to me. Then you come to school with Jughead looking like the cover of a sappy romance novel, and now you won’t even look at me?”

Shaking her head, ponytail weaving softly, she looks away. “I’m sorry, I’m just not really feeling it today.”

“You’re…not… _feeling it_?” he breathes, purposely leaning in as close as he can get. She shifts back, defensive. Although she’s used to being on the receiving end of a scowl, it’s not usually with someone who carries a switchblade…or wants to ravage her. “You sure didn’t mind _me_ feeling it these past couple of weeks.”

Bordering on embarrassed, her gaze flickers down the hall. “Look, I’ve got other stuff to deal with. So excuse me for not worrying about your… _feelings_ …if that’s what they are.”

Stiffening, Sweet Pea looks outraged at the very idea. “I don’t have feelings for you, princess! You North siders make me sick.”

Her eyebrow quirks up at him, making his chest tighten. Part of him almost certainly wants her to command him to obey her again. Letting out a shaky breath, he attempts to whisper, “Hey…is it because of him?”

Her head whips to the side, avoiding their lips being too close. He wants to bite her, kiss her--he'd even take a slap. He’s tempting her, and her warning glare when she turns back isn’t decreasing his interest in the least.

“Jughead and I are seeing each other, yes.” She isn’t sure what to say beyond that, assuming it’s all she needs.

His thick swallow makes his words come out dark, husky. “Is that the only reason?”

_I don’t need you anymore._

Fixing his dark eyes with a stare, she shakes her head.

Curling his upper lip, Sweet Pea, looks her over one more time. “Figures. I wouldn’t bet on your precious boyfriend keeping his leather for much longer, Princess. Especially without the support of his Serpents at Riverside.”

Before she has a chance to ask what he means, Sweet Pea storms away, leaving her slightly jilted by the lockers.

 

* * *

 

“Are you okay?” Veronica asks, taking in Betty’s rigid frame. She’s barely touched her lunch.

“I’m fine. I just…I have a deadline for the Blue and Gold.” Her fingers massage her temples, hoping it’ll ease some of the building anxiety. She’s almost too tired to be worried, and instead has settled somewhere along the lines of nausea. Jughead glances over at her, slightly concerned, but doesn’t put his hands on her yet. All of her body language is screaming, “ _Don’t touch me_ ” along the lines of a fussy cat.

Kevin leans forward conspiratorially. “Speaking of the Blue and Gold, my dad just called and told me there was a huge murder spree last night.”

“What?” Betty snaps to attention, even her ponytail swinging to attention.

Narrowing his gaze, Jughead studies her rapt expression as Kevin continues, describing brains and gore all over a hotel room. Her nostrils flare, eyes widen, and then suddenly she’s trembling uncontrollably.

“I have to go. I have to work on the—“ her words get lost as she shoves her food in Jughead’s general direction.

Before he can protest, she’s running down the hall. He gets up to follow her, but Veronica puts up a hand. “Sit down, Romeo. I’ve got this one.”

* * *

 

Betty slams into the ladies’ room stall and empties the meager contents of her stomach. Everything heaving through her, scraping her throat, doesn’t make her feel better.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” she hears Veronica ask outside the stall.

“I’m fine,” she claims through bleary eyes, more to herself than her friend.

Her friend arches an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “You don’t look it.” Betty turns to glare at her friend. Veronica sighs. “You have vomit on your collar.”

_At least it’s not blood._

Despite being best friends, Betty finds it surprisingly lacking in comfort when Veronica grabs a wet towel and gives it to her, leaning against the stall and waiting for her to continue. Scraping at the yellow gunk on her white collar, Betty tries to take a few calming breaths. Veronica clears her throat, gratingly reminding her she’s waiting for an answer.

“Is there something you’d like to share?” Before Betty can respond, she rephrases. “Scratch that—tell me whatever’s bothering you so I can fix it,” she smiles brightly.

Shaking her head, Betty leans her head against the stall. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“Well,” Veronica says, delicately positioning herself next to Betty. “Start talking and we'll probably find it.” At the thought of confessing about Chic, Betty is fairly certain she’s going to throw up again and gags, chucking up into the toilet next to her.

“Damn, girl! What is going on with you? You are literally spewing word vomit. Normally I’d hold your hair back, but—“ she gestures to the ponytail. Although it grosses her out, Veronica settles on rubbing her friend’s back in comfort. “It’s not like you’re pregnant, right?” Betty’s icy glare has Veronica raise her hands in defense. “Just checking. Wasn’t sure if you found that special someone to lose it to in the past few weeks.”

Shifting her shoulder, Betty avoids eye contact. Veronica notices, eyes widening, but blissfully only says, “Is it Jughead?”

“It’s not about losing my v-card,” Betty sighs, wiping her nose on the back of her hand. She ignores Veronica’s pointed, prying stare. Miserable, Betty asks earnestly, “Aren’t you ever tired of living in Riverdale? Murders every other day. Drugs. Gangs. Blackmail and lies. I feel like we’re becoming part of it, Veronica—not just the good stuff, but the bad stuff too.”

Veronica’s eyes light up in alarm, her hand squeezing Betty’s arm. “Betty, I’m here for you, and you are the least evil person I know. You—you are sugar, and spice, and everything nice!”

Shaking her head, Betty sniffs, fully aware that the tears running down her face will only sting her bitten lips. “There’s so much more to it, V. My body is literally expelling my insides because I’ve done something terrible, and I don’t know if I can ever make it right. With you. With my mom. With Jug. Even Riverdale. No matter what I do, I feel like this darkness will just come around and swarm me. As soon as I fill one void, solve on mystery, another one tears into my life. I don’t know how to stop it.” Uncontrollably shuddering, Betty buries her face in her arm. “It’s like I have no control. What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing! Nothing!” Veronica insists, sliding onto her knees on the dirty bathroom floor to hug her best friend. “Betty, you have to tell me what’s going on. For yourself, if nothing else.”

* * *

 

After the promise of a tell-all sleepover, including Kevin, Veronica helps Betty clean up and get through the rest of her classes. Jughead hovers nearby in the Blue and Gold office, biting his finger until Betty emerges, forcing herself to smile with the anxiety he’s used to seeing when she talks to Alice Cooper, not to Veronica Sawyer.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks again, hand automatically drawn to comfort her shoulder. He figures in the office it’s not as big of a deal as it is with their friends.

She just shakes her head slightly, looking side to side to make sure no one is listening. “I don’t know what to tell you, Jug. I feel like we keep so many secrets, and I’m not sure if this needs to be another one.”

“I love you, Betty,” Jughead says firmly, narrowing his eyes and tightening his grip on her shoulder. Her eyes open wider, nearly pleading with him not to make this worse. She bites her lip, looking torn.

_What does that even mean?_

“What?” he asks, trying to read her, fully aware that she hasn’t said it back since their reunification. His thumb dances over her cheek. “Betty, I’m here for you. You know that, right?”

Swallowing, she looks at him earnestly. “For how long, Jug?”

Looking stung, Jughead backs up a step.

_Forever?_

None of this is easy. Not the lying, not uncovering the truth. She takes a shaky breath, mustering up the courage to say what she feels. “I just…I feel like as soon as the Serpents take you back, you’ll push me away again.”

He shakes his head, familiar tension overtaking his face. “Betty, no. After all we’ve been through?“

Warily, she regards him. He can’t be that naive to think love will keep them together. Like they hadn’t been through a lot before? How can she explain it? “I know you think that now, but this town does something to people. It makes them _crazy._ My whole family is _crazy_ , Jug, including me.” He tenses in protest, about assure her she’s not, but she can’t deal with that right now, not with blood under her fingernails and vomit on her collar.

Brushing her hair smooth, she tries to reason with him and his sense of duty. “You’re already in hot water with the Serpents, and they won’t want you with a North sider with a defector Mom. And I know you. I know you want to do the right thing. You—”

_Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry with him again. Go numb. Just go numb._

Steeling herself, she looks him in the eye. “Just because we had sex doesn’t mean that everything’s changed—it doesn’t mean that we should be together. You’ve joined your version of crazy. I’ve inherited mine.”

Dumbfounded, he struggles to suppress the violent ranting he wants to express. “I—I’ve picked you, Betty. I don’t care how crazy it is. I don’t care that I’m a weirdo from the wrong side of the tracks. I don’t care about your parents,” he tries to clarify, pawing at her arms for his sentiment to stick. He searches her eyes for a semblance of the Betty he left last night. The one who loved him. Who wanted all of him. The panic hasn’t fully set in, but he’s on his way there. Someone else might leave him behind, and it feels like a vice tightening in both of their chests.

Her jaw tightens along with her fist. Her parents may not have liked Jughead, but they never actively tried to break them up. It was murderers, thieves, and blackmailers…besides the occasional meltdown of Jughead himself. And according to history, Serpents and Chic have been in all three categories. How long until one of them joined those ranks? He’s already cutting people’s arms, kidnapping them and abandoning them in the woods. Betty is an accessory to murder, an amateur webcam model.

“We’re not together, Jughead, and you don’t want to be,” she says softly. Again, Jughead looks like the breath has been knocked out of him. “Just because you say you love me doesn’t mean you always will. I don’t expect you to. It would be great, but—“ she bites her lip, unable to meet his eyes, her own filling with tears.

_Fuck._

Staggered, Jughead breaks out of his stupor to grab her face between his hands. “Betty—you have… _everything_. I am _in_ , Betty Cooper. I am _all in_. You once said you never stopped loving me, that you weren’t sure if you could. Is that true?”

Blinking back tears, Betty isn’t sure what to say. Her voice is hoarse, breaking with every word. “It’s true. But I tried.” Overwhelmed, she looks down at her palms, feeling the bite that comes with her nails. Sensing her anxiety, he leans in with a sudden desperation, kissing her with abandon. Her fists shake at her sides. With concentrated effort, she stiffens and stretches her fingers, releasing the pain, releasing her lips. She looks at him with big eyes, still not sure what to say, what he'll think. "I did some things, Jug.” He blinks at her, not understanding how his _perfect_ Betty Cooper could do anything wrong. Experimentation aside, her family is going to be arrested. _She_ could be arrested. “One of these days we’re going to be seeing each other from behind a glass panel,” she shivers, the tears shaking loose all at once.

Pained, his fingers gently cup her cheeks, diverting the stream. “I can handle it, Betty, and we can handle it together." His gaze flickers to her bloody fingernails, and he blinks against his own tears and pain. Fingers interlacing with hers, he caresses the fresh stings, curling palm over her own and pressing a kiss there. "I’m so sorry for not seeing it earlier. But you are so strong, Betty. And I’m here for you now. Do you…want me?” he asks softly, still tending to an ache deep inside him.

His eyes search hers, trying to pull up a memory of a boy at her window, a boy who risked it all to climb up to her balcony and say, _“Hey Juliet._ ”

Her full lips part slightly, and she can see Jughead’s gaze flicker to them, wanting to kiss her senseless.

“I want to do this,” she whispers, and his mouth is on hers, desperate, hungry. They stumble back into the nearby table, Jughead lifting her onto it to press himself against her chest. The familiar tingles of their passion rush through her. One of his hands slides up the side of her thigh, squeezing her reassuringly. When the roaring in her ears is too much to handle, she pulls back just enough for their lips to pop. Breathing heavily, Jughead stares at her, questioning if that’s enough. Licking her lips, dazed, she nods at him. “I need to show you something.”

Pupils dilated, he nods, leaning closer.

“No,” she shakes her head, voice still hoarse. “Tonight.” Trembling, she re-tightens her ponytail. “Take me to Pop’s, then to your place?” He nods subtly, his eyes still flickering to her lips. “We need to be alone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...Sweet Pea/Betty might not be a major thing anymore. Sorry for the low-key shippers! Their time will probably come in a different fic because I did have fun with them. She just has enough going on right now. It got a little dramatic this episode, but we are going further off canon the next chapter. Out of all the things Betty could show Jughead, what do you think she'll choose? Veronica will still get her sleepover, but first Betty has to stop at home and confront her co-conspirators. Ten points to anyone who gets the reference to one of my other favorite shows. Comments and kudos are motivation, so please leave them below~


	8. Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty comes clean to Jughead about what exactly she's been filling this void with, and what's caused the new one. He promptly has a heart attack in Pop's, only to be further exacerbated by the way she reveals herself to him at the trailer with a webcam. Veronica and Kevin host a slumber party where she opens up about her new experiences and is absolutely floored by their response. Alice and Chic aren't so happy with Betty's attempts to stay out of the house.

As soon as she walks into the house, Betty is hit with the sickening smell of potpourri, most likely to cover the smell of bleach. “Hi Betty, how was school?” Alice asks cheerfully from the living room.

Borderline incredulous, Betty tries to make herself numb. “Fine.”

Trying to fit a puzzle piece into place, Alice pries, “Did you talk to any of your friends?”

Suppressing a sigh, Betty nods. “Veronica invited me to a sleepover tonight.”

“You didn’t tell her anything?” her mother’s tight tone warns her that attitude will not be accepted tonight.

“No, Mom. I’ll be fine.” Betty’s thousand-yard-stare is lost on her mother, who nods curtly, having learned to suppress those kinds of emotions a long time ago.

She crosses her arms, still annoyed. “What about that Jughead boy? Didn’t he walk you to school?”

“Yeah.”

“Well? What did he have to say?”

Betty hasn’t eaten anything all day. Coupled with heaving at lunch, she feels faint even standing on the stairs, trying to form a lie close enough that her mother will believe it. “I don’t know, Mom. I think he just needs a friend.”

Her mother’s warning finger points at her as if casting a spell. “You be careful there. I don’t want that beanie-wearing miscreant back in your life any more than necessary.”

Blinking away a scowl, Betty turns and goes back up the stairs with a terse, “Yeah.”

She sits on her bed, smoothing her hair, feeling like she could pass out at any second. The dull thud in her head suddenly turns into a hammering echo of her heartbeat when Chic appears in the doorway.

“Hi Betty,” he says quietly, pushing past the door and creeping in.

_Don’t let him see you’re scared._

“Hi Chic,” she says steadily, still hunched over on her bed.

“Rough night?”

_Is he…serious?_

Smirking, he sits next to her on the bed. The shift in weight makes her want to heave again. Her fingers dig into the sides of the mattress, waiting for the moment to end. Chic leans close, still speaking softly with his signature almost-human indifference. “I know last night was rough for you.” His gaze bares into the side of her skull. “That’s not the first time things have gotten rough for me, Betty, and it really means a lot that you and Mom were able to come through for me. That’s what families do, right? They help each other.”

Trying not to tremble, Betty closes her eyes.

His breath is close enough she can feel it on her ear. “Like I helped you, remember? With your little social experiment? How’s that going by the way?”

Twitching, Betty glances over at him. “Fine. It’s fine.”

Almost glaring with intensity, he jerks his head in a nod. “Love is finite, Betty. People run out of it. One day you’re in sunlight and the next you’re in darkness.” His hand crosses over hers, gripping into the mattress with a fierceness that makes the veins on his arm stand out. “Don’t leave me in darkness, Betty. We have to love each other…for Mom’s sake.”

Horrified, skin crawling, Betty is acutely aware of Chic’s pulse against her own.

_He’s calm. Like a monster._

Swallowing, calming her heartbeat, she nods. “Okay, Chic.”

He sits for a few more seconds, eyeing her with a morbid fascination, almost like he’s curious enough to play with her some more.

“I have to get ready,” she says to her feet.

Chin moving subtly, Chic makes sure to let his fingernails drag across the outside of her hands as he removes them from the mattress. “Okay. Be safe, sis.”

Just as quickly as he came in, Chic slips away. Aware of his excellent hearing, Betty stifles her anguished gasp against her fist.

_Just get your stuff and get_ ** _out_** _of here._

* * *

 

Jughead’s face lights up when he sees Betty hobbling outside of Pop’s with two duffel bags. Laughing, he runs to help her. “I thought we were just having dinner.”

“We are. For now,” she pants, sweat shining on her forehead.

He nods, not understanding, but fully accepting the perfect mess before him. She’s changed her clothes since he saw her last and carries a new determination.

They order, and Jughead can’t help but stare at the way she’s struggling to keep herself together. Red-rimmed eyes flicker over him, and they make idle chatter, his fingers idly caressing hers until the food comes, at which point she confides, “It _is_ Chic-centric, by the way, the Cooper family drama.”

Raising his eyebrows, Jughead wonders if she waited on purpose until he had a mouth of burger to keep him at bay. Yeah. She did. She’s too smart for her own good.

“When I came home that night, my mom and Chic were in the kitchen. He had a friend over—someone from his past. A drug dealer.”

Jughead stiffens, waiting for the moment she mentions a Serpent jacket.

“He was dead,” she says calmly, her eyes studying him with a desperate intensity. Jughead’s fairly certain he’s stopped chewing. In fact, he’s not sure if he’s swallowed.

Betty continues, as if this is another speech with perfectly placed pauses. “My mom was going to take care of it alone. I—I saw Chic curled up on a chair and I just _knew_ that he did it.” Her fingernails tap firmly against the counter, as if counting down the minutes until she’d be carted away.

At this, her breath shudders, and she finds it hard to make eye contact with Jughead. He watches, intense, captivated, chewing his lip instead of the burger in his hands.

“I helped them get rid of the body, Jughead. We bleached and cleaned the place this morning.” Her big eyes take him in warily, waiting for a reaction.

For a second, Jughead thinks he might have drifted out of his body and is listening to some alternate reality. He says the only thing that comes to mind: “That explains why you slammed the door in my face.”

A small smile tugs at her lips, though not an amused one. Her beautiful eyes sad, she glances down at her uneaten chicken tenders. He should have known. Those aren’t even her favorite. “I’m an accessory to murder, Jug. I brought that monster into our house, let him out of his cage, and now someone is dead.”

“It’s not your fault, Betts,” he swallows, hand already on hers before he can think anything else. “You didn’t kill him. You were scared.”

“I _am_ scared…and I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.” Her gaze lowers to the table. Every instinct makes him want to launch across the table and hold her. He wants to kiss her hair and possibly burn her crazy house to the ground in an exorcism.

Voice quiet, eyes glued the table, she admits softly, “I’ve been in a dark place, Jug. A _really_ dark place.”

“Me too, Betty. Me too.” Grabbing snakes, going through the gauntlet, and fighting with blackmail-inducing drug lords may not be second-degree murder, but it sure felt like it. He presumed he could identify.

“I…I’ve done other things, Jug. But that’s the worst of it.”

Wincing, he tries to read her, but she still looks like the forlorn angel he’s known almost his whole life. “Like what?”

Taking a deep breath, she looks up at him. “Chic helped me…when I was trying to get over you.” The initial squirmy reaction of _Blossom bonding_ is squashed as she continues, “I heard you and Archie talking about me in the hall…about being _pure as the driven snow_.” Suddenly his heartbeat feels like a sledgehammer in his chest. Before he can say anything else, she adds, “I didn’t _feel_ pure. I didn’t even feel right. So I wanted to feel on the outside like I did on the inside. Chic set me up with a webcam, and I saw some pretty…unusual things.”

Stunned, Jughead shakes his head, trying to even _picture_ Betty sharing herself with some stranger. He’s not sure if that’s even _legal_. Fighting nausea, he asks, “What did you do?”

A shoulder shrugs as she pokes at a chicken tender. “Wore lingerie…and guys jerked off.” Jughead’s teeth sink into his fist to prevent him from spontaneously combusting. “Seriously. I was more covered than I was at the White Wyrm,” she sighs, her eyes filling with wary acceptance, as if she’s expecting him to never want to see her again. He’s more keen on destroying the internet, if it’s possible. “I hid my face, wore a wig, and earned a little money. Sometimes we’d talk. Usually they’d say something dirty, and I’d just say ‘uh-huh’ or something like that.”

Okay. He’s pretty sure he can get his heart to stop pounding in a few hours. It’s basically like she was watching porn. That’s in the realm of normal.

She shifts in the booth, preparing for stage two. “Then I went to the Wyrm and flirted with a Serpent.” His eyes widen, outraged, incredulous. “I was mad at you,” she admits freely, waving a chicken tender, as if that will distract him from the inherent rage building within. “Later, he tried to reconnect. I still wasn’t—you know—over it. So I milked him for information.” She shakes her head at his slack jaw, “I just slapped him a few times, let him kiss my leg, and then I went into your trailer alone and…jerked off,” she admits quietly.

The conflicted nature of North side versus South side seems _trivial_ to the raging emotions swirling within Jughead…and Betty for that matter.

“W— _why?_ ” he asks, almost dizzy.

“Because I still wanted you,” she admits quietly, those blue-green eyes pulling him in.

He shoves his palms against his eyes, hoping for some clarity. There is _so much_ that could go wrong right now. So much he thought could be right.

The more she talks, the more the knife digs in, but in some ways he’s grateful it’s all at once so he can have a heart attack and die fairly quickly right here in Pop’s. “It’s over, but he was upset and threatened me with your place in the Serpents. Also…you should know that right before the Black Hood tried to kill us, Archie and I shared a kiss.” And there’s the searing chest pain. His vision nearly blacks out for a second, some kind of roaring swirling in his ears. Vaguely, he processes that she’s still talking. “We’d both just had our hearts broken. We were both scared. I didn’t want to feel so alone. It was—neither of us wanted it to go beyond that.” She pauses, but she doesn’t give him time to do anything but take a calming breath. “I—I also tried making out with someone at a club.” The sound that escapes him is somewhere near a moan and a whimper. Betty keeps the confession going. “I just felt like you and Archie had left me behind, and after the whole thing with Toni—“

His eyes snap open, focusing on her. “That didn’t mean anything!”

“Neither did they!” she agrees vehemently. “I just—I wanted to be _seen_ , I wanted to feel something— _anything_. There was this void in me and I couldn’t figure out how to fill it. I didn’t even know what I _wanted_. I just wanted…” His eyes flicker to her hands, noting her nails flickering against her palm’s edge. “Control,” she finishes, lip trembling.

“Oh, Betty,” he sighs, wiping the entirely of his face, hoping if he pushes hard enough he can ground himself amidst this chaos. It feels like he’s aged four years through this conversation. Her clenched hands edging towards him don’t go unnoticed. It’s still Betty Cooper. Betty Cooper, heart aching, at Pop’s. She was there when he was trying to do something about a clanging emptiness in his chest, wearing his father’s leather jacket, riding a motorcycle, and destroying their life.

_“Whatever you need to explore or do…I support you.”_

Those same blue-green eyes are searching him, waiting for a response. He eyes her warily, then, heart heavy, places his hands on hers.

A visible tremble reverberates through her, and her grateful gaze warms over Jughead’s stern face. “What do we do?” he asks.

“ _We?”_

Her relieved smile is enough to light his heart on fire again.

* * *

 

“I just…don’t understand why we’re doing this right now.”

“Because I only have an hour left as a free woman before I go to Veronica’s,” Betty tells him, disappearing into the other bedroom. “Answer my call, okay?”

He shifts, uncomfortable. The lights are all of in the trailer save for the glow of the computer screen on his kitchen table. His Dad is at Fred’s for at least another hour tonight. The ring from his computer draws his surly attention, and he answers the video chat.

His pupils dilate, taking in all of Betty’s beautiful light in the dark room. 

“I want you to do something for me, Jughead,” she says softly, slowly removing her cardigan, tracing her shoulders as she goes for her camisole. His fingers press to his mouth, stunned. Thankfully in the dark, no one can see the flush creeping up his neck.

“I want you to show yourself to me. All of you. Then I can show you all of me,” she says softly, mouth pouting as she draws her camisole over her head. His mouth runs dry. It’s bizarre, watching her strip like this. Normally he’s the one ripping off her clothes. The striptease was so _public_. This is private. Just for him.

The cinephile in him realizes that the way she’s framing it, it’s clear this show is specifically for him. She wants him to see _all_ of her, whereas in person he’d be drawn to look at just _parts_ of her. And her parts are nice. They’re perfect, really, and even more so when she’s drawing her fingertips over them and glancing up at him.

“Betty,” he says, voice thick.

“Jug—don’t you want to see me?”

Her golden hair trails over her shoulder as she lifts herself off his bed, slowly pushing her pants over her hips, flashing a glimpse of her creamy white hip to the glow of the webcam.

There goes any hope of him protesting. Groaning, he takes off his shirts, aware of the way her eyes trail on his chest. What’s so great about his chest? It’s not like he has Archie’s 8-pack.

Her eyes glaze over in something like lust as she pushes her pants the rest of the way off. Jughead leans forward, watching attentively, hands clenched in front of his lips.

That light, beautiful voice reaches out to him again. “Juggie—I want to see you.”

It’s weird, being wanted at all, let alone by Betty Cooper. But he's ready to be seen by her.

Taking a shaky breath, Jughead lifts himself up just enough to unbuckle his pants and starts to slide them off. She can’t see him below the table anyways, but she can hear the rustle of clothing and that seems to sate her.

“This is the first time—the only time—I’ve done this onscreen,” her voice crackles over the mic, and his heartbeat races as he watches her hands go for her bra. It’s so _different_ —watching her and being unable to touch her. This is the lust—the life behind the screen. He jerks his attention away from the naked girl on the screen, embarrassed as she slinks out of her last bits of clothes and positions her legs far apart so he can get a better angle. “Do you like this, Jug?” she asks softly, fingers stroking her folds for him. A low sigh enflames warmth along his neck, and Jughead finally wraps his hand around himself to start helping relieve the tension, eyes glued to the screen.

“I really want to touch you, Betty,” he murmurs, voice thick with desperation.

“I want you to touch me too—but I think right now it’s best we touch ourselves. Just in case.” His lips part in want as she slips a finger inside, rubbing circles for him.

There’s very little noise, just low moans and gasps as they work each other up. He’s not sure if she wants him to go fast or slow, but at this rate, with his heart pumping in his ears, Jughead wants to close his eyes and picture it’s actually Betty in front of him, waiting for his release.

“Jug—“ she whimpers, forcing him to open his eyes.

She wants _him._

Edging back his chair, Jughead backs up and stands so she can see him, pale toned body and all. Her low moan ignites the fire within him a little more, and suddenly he feels this boil in his blood. Although his hand continues to stroke, his jaw tightens with resolve. He wants to touch her while she’s here.

“I’m coming in,” he says, and before she can do much besides sit up straighter, surprised, he practically punches through to the bedroom. Shocked, her gaze flickers between him and the laptop.

“Jug—“

Blood still singing, Jughead crawls onto the bed, dragging her by the legs until he’s towering over her, right between her thighs. Eyes wide with want, he’s fairly certain Betty could never be more or less beautiful to him than she is right now. Hooking her knee up on his shoulder, Jughead seeks comfort her sleek wetness. A satisfied groan tears through them both as they move together, her fingers wrapping tightly behind his neck. Heat and pleasure washing over them, he buries his face into her neck and pulls back, wanting to watch her come undone.

“Nothing will ever take you away from me,” Jughead declares with a darkness in him he wasn’t even aware of. Betty’s lashes fluttering in want, he wonders if she always knew.

* * *

 

Still on shaky legs, Betty falls almost as hard as her duffel bag onto Veronica’s bed.

“You…doing okay?” Veronica asks, more with amusement than concern at this point.

“Yeah. Just can’t use my legs,” Betty sighs, covering her face with her arms.

Quirking an eyebrow, Veronica moves around the side of the bed to lay on her stomach on the other side of her friend. “We starting girl’s night with some bedroom talk, Miss Cooper?”

A satisfied smile tugs at Betty’s face, wanting to revel in a moment of levity before unleashing all the heavy baggage. “All right. Before we start—it’s amazing.” Veronica’s stunned laugh makes Betty shoot her a cheeky glare. “But anything I say stays in this bedroom, not be uttered to anyone—including Archie.”

“I swear on my pearls,” Veronica declares dramatically, one hand waving in the air.

“I…wish we’d been doing it earlier,” Betty grins, flushing at the memory of Jughead’s naked body marking hers. She’s fairly certain Jughead is going to be using the word _wanton_ in their everyday vocabulary a lot more these days, especially referencing her.

Grinning madly, Veronica nods, fingering the pearls on her neck. “I get that. Orgasms are great, and they’re even better when you have a hot stud to share them with. What made you decide to take the naked plunge into depravity?”

Letting out a breath, Betty clutches her own necklace. “I was scared. I felt like…everything was tumbling down around me, and I had to find something to cling to.” At Veronica’s alarmed silence, Betty continues, “It was beautiful, though. He was really gentle,” her face breaks into a grin, “And then he wasn’t.”

“Betty Cooper!” Veronica exclaims with glee, tossing a pillow in her direction. “You _love_ him! And whatever awfully naughty things he’s doing to you.”

“Yeah,” she sighs wistfully, suddenly feeling nervous that she hasn’t said it back to him since rekindling their relationship.

Barely able to contain herself, Veronica hovers until she’s practically breathing on Betty’s face. “So? Is it some random stranger stud? Or is it the self-proclaimed Serpent prince?”

Smile warming her cheeks, Betty nods.

“Ah!” Veronica exclaims giddily. “I always knew the Northside princess deserved a prince. He’s nowhere near good enough for you, Betty. But he’ll have to do—especially if you’re in _love_ ,” she teases, batting her eyelashes.

“Shut up—“ Betty chuckles, pushing her away with a pillow.

Practically skipping, Veronica slides off the bed. “So is that all the nausea was about? Post-Reconciliation sex nerves? Or is it about the murders?”

Voice catching, Betty rolls onto her stomach. “I think I ought to tell you _and_ Kevin my plan—together. And V, I know this is a lot to ask, but after I tell you, I need to know if it’s all right if I crash here for a while.”

Furrowing her brows, Veronica shakes her head. “Of course, B. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Well," she takes a deep breath, plucking at the comforter. "You might.”

* * *

 

Kevin walks a little more stiffly than the girls he’s with. Betty notes Jughead’s smirk upon seeing the three of them wander the halls together. Part of her expects him to pry Veronica’s arm out of her own and take it as his, but he respects her best friend. Sort of.

Veronica hasn’t let Betty out of her sight for more than five minutes since her confession. It was oddly wonderful that all of their friends were so supportive, so kind. Who else would host her like this, no questions asked? But Veronica insisted that Hiram had made sure their building had the best security, so even the likes of Chic and “Mrs. C” couldn’t get to her. Kevin, of course, was horrified, and kept repeating, “I was flirting…with a _murderer?_ Is that my _type?!”_ Betty tried to console him by reminding him Joaquin wasn’t a murderer, just an accessory, like her. According to Veronica, accessories were nothing to be ashamed of. The morbid joke washes over with a distorted sense of amusement, and she shakes her head to get it out.

“You look happy,” Jughead teases softly, falling in place behind the trio.

“Yeah well she _should_ be,” Veronica shoots back sassily, drawing Betty closer to her side. “Little B is going to come live with me. I’m thinking makeovers, I’m thinking dance parties, I’m thinking brunch…”

“Gee, do you get conjugal visits?” Jughead whispers, causing Betty to smirk and blush.

“I heard that, Jughead Jones!” Veronica admonishes lightly. “Betty’s visitors all have to be approved and accounted for. I’m pretty sure Mom and Dad would have a heart attack if they knew teenage sex was running rampant in their house. You should’ve seen Daddy’s face when Archie and I _kissed._ ”

Shaking their heads, the group slowly makes their way to class. “Come on, B,” Veronica insists, tugging her away. “You can have secret sex with your boyfriend later.”

“I _do_ want to talk to my girlfriend,” Jughead sighs, waving his arm in an attempt to flag them down. Betty’s blush is making him think all kinds of warm and happy thoughts, but he seriously wants to know what happened last night. He can’t keep the smile from his face when Betty shyly looks over her shoulder at him.

_This is love._

* * *

 

Last night Betty had crawled out of bed, sure that Veronica and Kevin were both asleep, before pulling out her phone and dialing Jughead.

“Betty?” he answers quickly, voice hoarse. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she smiles, biting down on her lip. “It’s just—I realized I didn’t say—and I really feel it…I—” she swallows, rubbing the back of her neck. “I wanted to say goodnight. And…I love you.”

The stunned silence hovers only for a second, before a quiet, relieved whisper reaches back out. “I love you too.” Heart surging with warmth, Betty clutches her chest.

“Are we really going to do this?”

“Well yeah,” he answers dryly. “I thought the vigorous lovemaking session earlier was proof enough.”

Giggling, she shakes her head. “That’s not what I meant. I mean, we can do this, right?”

“Betty,” he starts, and for a second fear grips her heart. He sounds like he’s trying to break something to her. “You’re my girlfriend. I know we can do the whole _what does this mean_ dance, but I love you. You love me. We’re boyfriend and girlfriend and partners in crime or whatever else this stupid town throws at us and we’re going to stay that way until the end of time. Got it?”

Part of her wants to roll her eyes at his dry romanticism, the other part wants to throw her head back and laugh with abandon. “Yeah. But I have one thing to add,” she amends, biting back a smile when she hears his sigh.

“What?”

“I want us to be best friends.”

He goes quiet, appreciative. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

* * *

 

“So are you going home after school today?” Jughead asks, fingers lazily twirling the end of Betty’s ponytail. “Last goodbye and all that?”

“No,” she sighs, shaking her head. “It’ll be too hard to face my mom like that. She can tell when I’m lying. I just…I want her to be happy, and I keep doing things to make her sad.” Her palms press into her forehead, and Jughead is suddenly there, arms around her.

“ _You_ didn’t do anything,” he assures her. “You tried to bring some joy back into her life. You can’t help it if your brother is legitimately a psychopath and your sister is a selfish—“ he cuts off at her sharp look. “Not as nice as you,” he finishes, attempting to be lenient. “ _You_ are amazing, Betty. And I’m proud of you for handling everything the way you do.” At the touch of his thumb to her chin, Betty closes her eyes, like she’s absorbing the warmth from the sun.

“You’re proud of my careen into darkness?” she asks lightly. It’s played as a joke, but Jughead can read her too well.

“I’m proud of how you’re able to recognize and anesthetize it.” Her eyes flutter fully open to find him gazing at her seriously. “We’re all made of darkness. We are going to get through this—shadows and all.”

She wishes she could join him in his confidence, but deep in her gut something keeps wrenching around.

_I’m crazy…and so are Polly’s twins…and so will our—my—no, our children, if we have any. I don’t want to have anyone else hurt because of me or my family._

His movement on her chin forces her to look at him again. Eyebrows raised, he demands her attention. “You believe me?”

Instinctively, she licks her lips, gaze flickering to his mouth. She remembers the last time…the last few times they’ve had this conversation. “Yes.” It feels more like a sub acquiescing to a dom than an actual agreement, but she hopes he’ll take it for now.

 

* * *

 

“Elizabeth Cooper!” Alice hisses into the phone. She’s called the main school system since she won’t answer her cell phone during class. “Get home _right now_. The police are outside asking about a car. I think it’s that man’s!”

_Chic’s victim?_

Betty tries to relax into Jughead’s fingers at the back of her neck. “What am I supposed to do about it?” she grumbles in what she hopes is a typical teen fashion and not — _oh yeah, I gave them the tip about the car. And the dead body. And a whole lot of other things._ Jughead watches her face with curiosity.

“Get home so we can fix something! That vagrant probably has drugs in there or something. We have to protect Chip.”

“Mom, I can’t. We’re covering the murder spree at the Blue and Gold tonight.” Snuggling against Jughead, she nestles her hip against his to help ground her voice as she lies. “Then I’m supposed to stay at Veronica’s again. She’s having a really tough time with—“

“I don’t care _what_ her crime lord family is going through, the only family you should concern yourself with is this one! Get. Home. _Now._ ”

The line goes dead. Betty lets out a long sigh. “Thus, it begins. The cops are at my house.”

“Have they arrested anyone?”

“No, not yet.” Teeth tugging at her lip, she doesn’t realize she’s spaced out until Jughead pulls on her hips. “I just…don’t think she should be alone when they come.” Her heart beats hard, steady in her chest. This may be the right thing to do, but it’s not going to be easy for any of them.

Jughead’s fingers tighten around hers, and he nods. “We’ll get through this, Betty. Do you want me to come with you?”

Taking a deep breath, she meets his concerned gaze with resolve. “Yes. But Mom already said I shouldn’t get you any more involved than you have to be. I can go alone.”

Hesitant, Jughead keeps fingering at the nape of her neck. “I feel like you would never let me face something like this alone.”

“I can handle it,” she declares. With a solemn nod, Jughead agrees.

His gaze carefully contours her face, studying that plush frown. “But you won’t have to this time. I’ll hang back, but I’ll be there for you, Betty. Tell them I’m obsessed with you or something.”

A small smile plays at her lips, eyes momentarily brightening with levity. “Are you my number one fan?”

“Fuck yes.”

The soft tingle of his lips confidently pressed to hers drowns out the white noise.

* * *

 

“Mom?” Betty calls out tentatively, stepping into the foyer. “I’m home. I brought—“

“Jughead?!” Alice careens into the living room looking stricken. “Betty, I thought I told you, we can't have guests.”

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Jughead raises his eyebrows and smiles with something close to an apology for existing in their space.

“Jughead and I still have some work to do for the Blue and Gold. I told him to work in my room and I’ll meet him there when we’re done discussing the issue with the neighbors,” Betty replies, annoyed her mother would be so rude in front of Jughead. Her brother can murder someone and he gets pancakes but she brings home her not-so-ex and her mother looks like she wants to vomit paste on them?

Hands on her hips, Alice appraises the beanie-wearing delinquent in her foyer. “Fine. Jughead, I trust a sandwich will keep you busy all of five minutes?”

“Less,” he can’t help but reply. Betty shoots him a glare. “But I can talk to my metabolism.”

Rolling her eyes, Alice turns into the kitchen to heap some leftovers onto a plate for him. Her dirty glances between the two of them only solidify Betty’s numbness, encouraging her to cross her arms and tense her shoulders.

When Alice turns to put back the ingredients, Jughead quickly massages Betty’s shoulder in comfort. Shaking her head, Betty keeps her eyes fixed on the counter until her mother shoves the plate in Jughead’s direction.

Suspicious and irritated, Alice eyes the two. “I guess we can’t expect FP to care for his child enough to get dinner on the plate. Take this and wait in Betty’s room until we’re finished. I imagine you can find it.”

Ignoring the jibe, Jughead nods. “Thank you, Mrs. Cooper.” He fades away from them, up the stairs into her room. Alice and Betty stand tense in the kitchen until they hear the soft click of her bedroom door.

“What were you thinking?” Alice hisses.

“Where’s Chic?” Betty asks, ignoring the hostility.

“He’s—resting. He’s totally distraught.”

Betty raises her eyebrows. “Really? Because he doesn’t seem it, mother.”

Alice’s piercing eyes slant in warning. “Don’t take that tone with me, young lady. This family is going through enough without your holier-than-thou attitude. Your hands are covered in blood, just like the rest of ours.”

It feels like glass shatters inside of her somewhere, and she has to blink and turn away, acutely aware of the pressure in her palms. How could she say something like that? “I did it so you wouldn’t have to be alone.”

Somehow appeased, Alice reaches over the counter to grab Betty’s hands. “Oh, Betty. None of us can be alone right now. I understand now why you brought that awful Jones boy home.” Her fingers caress the side of Betty’s stunned, rigid face. “But sometimes the people in our past should be left there, sweetie, so they can’t hurt you anymore.”

Eyes glazed over with resolve, she nods.

* * *

 

Jughead is weirdly comforted by being in Betty’s pink pastel room. The only momentary discomfort is when he sees Archie’s window through hers. But Jughead’s the one who was brave enough to climb up to it.

**_She_** **_chose_** **_me_** _._

Jughead’s always hated the whole idea of fragile masculinity, especially when it comes to his best friend. Well, former best friend. They still hadn’t come quite to terms since the whole Serpents thing. Running a hand through his hair, Jughead makes his way through her room, examining it for any clues to her non- _Bughead_ life. There’s just the typical photos on her mirror. Of course there are a few of her and Archie. He blanches. But there’s also a few new ones, a selfie of her and Veronica and Archie with Veronica’s “XOXO -V” scrawled on the white margins, a posed photo of Polly and her peachy-faced twins. His face is notably absent on her mirror shrine to all that is Riverdale. It doesn’t surprise him. They are…recently reconciled. But it still hits at his heart just a little bit.

He hears the flutter of clothes, and Jughead coils in preparation to face Alice when all of a sudden a blonde, sharp-chinned boy appears in Betty’s bedroom. He’s not sure if he just came from Betty’s bathroom or the hall—but either way the guy was freaky-quiet…and glaring daggers into Jughead. The Cooper family definitely had beef with the Jones’s.

Jughead swallows his apprehension, attempting to be cordial with someone clearly more unstable and less welcoming than Alice. “You must be Chic.”

“You Betty’s boyfriend?” the boy practically scowls, eyes flickering distastefully over Jughead’s plaid shirt tied around his waist.

“Jughead.” He tilts his chin in acknowledgment, already acutely aware of why Betty would want to hide from him. The boy remains unmoved, arms hanging tensely at his sides, as if he’s ready to defend himself at any time.

“You know what happened here,” the smooth voice implies, his eyes unblinking.

_Don’t show him any weakness._

He can choose between a crude reference to Betty’s adventures in her bedroom or a noncommittal response. Before he has time for either, Chic tenses his shoulders.

That low voice husks out of the boy’s frame, as if he’s a shell emitting a frequency to scare off other humans. “If anyone found out, it would be bad for Betty. And Mrs. Cooper.”

“What?” Dumbfounded, clenching his fist, Jughead’s pulse thunders in his ears. His Dad may not approve of his newly-found feistiness, but at least now he knew how to take and give a punch.

“Think about it,” Chic warns casually, the sharp lines of his face unmoved as he slips past the Serpent.

* * *

 

Betty, Jughead, and Alice sit in the hall, waiting for Chic to come out. The police had pulled him in to be detained right after his shift at the Bijou, so although Betty wasn’t there to witness it, rumors were already circulating about the way his face shifted from impassive to blinding rage before feigning innocence. He didn’t even use his one phone call to get Alice.

Jughead keeps stealing glances at Betty, who’s leaning over in her chair, fingers pressed to her lips. He’s not sure if he should still be here, his back stiffening as they sit in relative silence while Alice raves on about wanting to know what’s happening inside.

Finally, when he can’t take it anymore, he puts his arm around Betty and lets her sink into him, as much a comfort to him as he is to her. Alice looks stunned, momentarily horrified. It’s almost enough to make Jughead glare at her. “Betty!” she gasps. “Get that Serpent’s snare out of your head and off of your shoulders.”

Sighing, rolling her eyes, Betty protests, “ _Mom._ Can we just focus on Chic please? Jughead’s been nice enough to stay with me as my _brother_ is taken in for questioning.”

Stiffening, Alice eyes the arm tightening around her daughter’s shoulder. “Let’s get one thing straight, _Jughead Jones_ ,” Alice Cooper hisses through red-rimmed eyes. “You are _not_ going to take away my daughter.”

“ _Mom!_ ” Betty protests, horrified. But Alice’s outburst causes him pause. This is about losing another child. Betty’s brief glance at him tells him that she knows, that’s why she’s here for her now, even in the midst of the insanity.

With a sudden swell of awe mixed with shame, he realizes that she would’ve been there waiting for him on the other side of the gauntlet. She was here before, waiting for him when he was detained for the murder of Jason Blossom. She would hide a body for the people she loved. She blackmailed Cheryl so his father could go free. She would be here for her mother. She would be here for Archie, for Veronica, for Kevin. If he’d asked her to, she probably would even be there for Toni. How could one person care so much about Riverdale? He used to, but even he'd been feeling this unbearable rage towards the town that rejected him.

Does she— _could_ she—be that sensitive to abandonment? This beautiful girl next door, who took to loving the homeless weirdo in tenth grade? Maybe she loved him before that, but that’s when it started to really _count_ in the midst of everything falling apart. It still boggles him. Her parents were _here_. They never left. Until recently, they didn’t fight. They strangled her with expectations, sure, but they never hit her or drank. The first time she faced it was when her sister Polly was put into that home for troubled youths, but even then she’d clawed her way back to her sister to give all the support she could.

Maybe Betty’s heart was just that full. She could ache for someone else’s loneliness.

_Maybe that’s why she and Archie—_

He cuts off the thought and smooths her hand in his own. No need to dwell on the past. If he was going to get back into the Serpents, no doubt Betty would be sitting here with him on multiple occasions.

Sheriff Keller sighs, stepping out and rubbing the back of his neck. Alice is on her feet, shooting towards him before he can even finish his breath.

“Sheriff! Where is my son? Can I see him?”

Sheriff Keller puts up his hands to stop the sea of blonde coming at him, shaking his head. “Take it easy, Alice. You can’t see him right now. He’s being processed.”

Her eyes light up in indignant hysteria. “On what charges?!”

Keller eyes her warily. “Drug possession, among other things. Alice, I think you’d better come inside and answer some questions.”

Jughead feels Betty surge in adrenaline next to him, getting to her feet and moving to hold her mother’s hand, even as Alice’s face starts to crumple in tears.

“It’s okay, Mom, it’ll all be okay,” she assures her gently, stroking her mother’s arm. Jughead stands back, heart surging, watching Betty try to keep her family together in vain. She's the most sane of all of them.

He wants to build her a new family. A better one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm probably having way more fun with this than I should. And yes, Chic IS being taken in by the police because I feel like even though Betty would do ANYTHING for her family, she knows Chic is a whole other level of crazy and the guilt of potentially assisting covering up an innocent man's death would drive her crazier than she already is. I decided to give Jughead a break and be nice from his perspective this time too. How did you guys like his sections? As always, comments and kudos are motivation! As for where the story is going, it's either going to end on dealing with Chic or Black Hood #2, but canon divergence on both. Lemme know whatcha think! <3


	9. Like a Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty discovers just how much Chic intended to mentor her in the webcam world. With everything crashing down around her, she just wants one night of Jughead taking control.

It feels like static is pulsing just outside of her ears. Betty lets out her ponytail, fluffing her hair to try and muffle the white noise.

“Hi Betty,” a voice says quietly, and she jumps so quickly that for a moment she’s not sure if she’s already lashed out her arms or not.

Smirking, the familiar angular face of Chic lights up from the bedroom door.

She’s fairly certain the floor is going to swallow her up whole. “What are you doing here, Chic? I thought you—“

“Bail,” he feigns a smile, circling closer, noticing her glance to the exit, his gaze honing on her a little tighter.

“The Bijou paid for that? Because Dad—“

“Hal doesn’t know about that yet, Little Sis. He’s probably still uncomfortable moving back into this _House of Sin_ or whatever.” Chic’s face twists into a wry smile. Becky takes a deep breath. Maybe she doesn’t want to know where he got the bail money, especially if her mom isn’t out yet. According to Alice, they were maintaining they blacked out during the attack and cleaned up afterwards, not knowing what to do. Alice warned Betty to stay out of it, especially since Hal and Jughead could maintain her alibi that night. Hal threw some hissy fits and refused to pay bail or come back to the house. Betty knew there was no way her meager internship earnings could pay any bail, so she’d stayed with the Lodges for a few days, but when Veronica had gotten into another snit with her father, Hiram had politely but firmly informed Betty she was to find a new place to stay.

At first she’d wanted to stay with Jughead, but the look on FP’s face when he realized his son would be shacking up in the same room with his girlfriend or he’d be sleeping on the couch was enough to make her change her mind. Truth be told, her own dad kept saying he was working on a project and wasn’t sure if he could trust her with it yet, especially since she kept putting her faith in _the wrong people_. Her dad was so angry with their family that he was basically staying at the freezing cold newspaper office until the crime tape was cleared.

The Cooper house was sterile, covered in bleach and dusted for fingerprints. Her heart ached when she thought of Jughead going through the same thing back when FP was arrested for the murder of Jason Blossom. Everything felt empty in this house because of her—for trying to fill some kind of missing piece since Polly left, but every move just kept widening the gap in the Cooper family and their hold on reality was slipping through.

Knitting her nails into her palms, Betty wills herself to be there for the one who refuses to slip through the cracks, sneaking through the shadows instead. Her voice tender, she asks, “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” his neck throbs, twitches almost, as he continues stalking towards her. The pace is on par with a rooster, and Betty wills herself to be ready to move like a fox.

“I know it was self-defense, Chic,” Betty mutters, attempting to rub her hair back into a ponytail. He doesn’t say anything, just nods subtly, watching her.

_Fine. We can play that game._

“Are you staying here?” she asks.

“I guess not.” Those hard eyes of his flash, and Betty finds herself glancing at his empty, flexing hands. “Still camming? Or are you saving it for your boyfriend?”

Swallowing her revulsion, she shakes her head. He’s just out of jail and now he wants to know about her sex life? “I haven’t needed it, Chic.”

His smirk makes her want to slap him, the fury rising in her like when Chuck had whispered those revolting things to her at Jughead’s birthday party. “You were good. Not great. A little quiet. But I think with a little coaching you could really make a name for yourself.”

Against her better judgment, she asks, “What are you talking about?”

“Your videos.”

Her mouth opens, confused, gaping. “You…watched them? H-how? _Why?_ ”

“You watched mine, right?” he asks, tongue flicking against his teeth.

A nervous rumbling reverberates through her gut, curling into her fists. “To—to understand you, yes. But Chic—I maybe watched the first 20 seconds. I never—“

“Got to the finale?” His eyes are dark, barely a hint of that Cooper pastel lurking beneath. “It doesn’t matter to me, Betty, what you or your boyfriend do to pass the time. Whatever itch you have…it needed to be scratched.” Her fingers twitch impulsively, testing the skin beneath.

His eyes glaze over her, momentarily interested. “Pretty teen girl in a small town, you’ll go viral in no time.”

Eyes wide, confused, Betty shakes her head. “What are you talking about? I don’t want—I’m not doing that. And I _couldn’t_. Those streams were live and private.” Or so she thought, she reminds herself.

“Check your laptop, Betty. Search for a file called ‘Security4.mov.’” As she goes to sit down, Betty moves her phone inside her pocket, angling it so it peeks out the back of her jeans after hitting a few side buttons. Following Chic’s instructions, Betty navigates the webcam app on her computer and finds the video files.

_They…save? When I use the webcam app…it’s saving those files?_

Heart hammering in her chest, she clicks on the file he requested.

Betty’s jaw falls slack—it’s her, stripping for Jughead. Every hair on her body feels like it's standing on end. Her cursor hovers over the timeline, brief images flashing of her touching herself, and him climbing on top of her to finish her off. Their fuzzy bodies come in and out focus, his beautiful body joining hers. Part of her is fascinated, awed, but a much larger part is horrified, freezing with adrenaline. Her mouth goes dry, and she’s surprised her tongue doesn’t slice and pour blood as she asks, “Chic, what—what is this?”

His mouth quirks, not sure whether to smile or frown in this situation. “You didn’t think I’d give you a camera without having my own security, did you? I set up the app to automatically save, so I could check them out later. See how you were doing.” Something in the pit of her stomach shifts, like a spider carefully clambering over her insides, each of its legs leaving the faintest impression of a bite. “I have more.” Chic glances at her, nonchalant, as reaches over and finds the other “Security” videos. One of the icons includes Betty asleep in her bed, something she obviously didn’t use the app for. This psycho was saving homemade videos of his creepiness. Blood pumping, she tries to ignore the screeching static in her ears, the itch of her palms.

_Slut-shaming doesn’t even begin to cover it. This is a total invasion of privacy. Chic is…dangerous. A predator. Does he_ ** _want_** _me to know the attack wasn’t in self-defense? Or just that I’m the one who should be afraid now?_

Chic studies her coldly, indifferent. “I didn’t upload any of these out of respect for you, Betty. Because I thought we could play at being a happy little family.”

“You’re supposed to be my _brother._ Why the hell are you recording me naked?! This is so beyond…” Nausea overwhelms her, but before she can get up and vomit, Chic grabs the back of her neck, pinching her. There’s no tenderness in the touch, only a cold, viselike grip. A shiver runs down her spine and she suppresses any instinct to even _think_ about crying. Instead, she slowly stretches her neck within his grasp. At this point she wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to snap it.

“It’s okay, Betty. I don’t judge you. We’re family. We take care of each other.” It’s like he’s reciting lines from a play she can’t follow.

She looks at him, aghast. “Why? You’ve manipulated everyone around you to get what you want. What is it? Drugs? Money? A home? The police know the guy was your dealer, Chic. Why set Mom up for the fall?”

“You’re so much smarter than you look,” he says, peering at her curiously. “But you keep getting emotional, Betty. Guilt. Remorse. It’s about pleasure. I get bored. I need money. I fuck strangers and get high.”

“But you didn’t get the drugs. You _killed_ him.”

“No,” Chic admits, nodding his head thoughtfully. “But I did get to see how far you two would go for me. Not only would you turn on your father, but you and your mother would even hide a body for me, take the fall for me if I needed it.”

**_Your_** _father?_ ** _Your_** _mother?_

“Are you…really my brother?” she asks, voice evening out, dread settling in her stomach. The tarantula-like uneasiness prickles across her insides again, threatening to claw our her throat like some horrible horror movie.

For a sick moment, she thinks Jughead’s right in referring to her life as a Hitchcock movie.

Chic’s slick little smile plays on his face for a moment. “I’m in fantasy fulfillment, Betty. I call you Little Sis, you call me Charles. Chic. What does it matter? We like role play. Maybe you’ve done it with your boyfriend a few times, or maybe you will—if you don’t go to jail that is. Don’t you want to have him fuck you like this again, Betty?” He attempts to find the spot of them having sex in Security4.mov.

It doesn’t even phase him, watching it again. They are all little pawns in a game that he feels like playing.

Resisting the temptation to break down amidst the background of her and Jughead’s moans, Betty’s eyes rake Chic carefully, putting together as many pieces of the puzzle as she can. “Where are your crescent scars?”

Vaguely turning from his screen, he looks blank.

_He doesn’t even have any. This was all a fucking science experiment._

She remembers studying psychopaths, sociopaths, Associative Personality Disorder. They read what you want and mirror and charm their way into your lives so they can get what they want. That’s why he was so patient with Alice treating him like he’s 10. It was all a setup for a greater cause. Power, control, money, and in some cases, sex, although that usually has to do with the former.

_He read me and he knew I wanted someone to share this pain with, to explore this pain inside of me. He might as well be part of this family with all the horrors in him._

“No more games, Chic,” Betty says softly, shaking her head. “I want the truth. Why are you doing this?”

“It’s just security, Betty. To make sure we understand each other. To make sure you do the right thing and vouch for me on that stand.”

Swallowing, Betty tries to steel herself for the next question.

”Where is my brother? The one Mom put up for adoption?”

“Charles is long gone, Betty. A junkie. Like me." His eyes flash with a totally unexpected bout of amusement, startling her as he continues, "Except I’m alive. I can be here for you, to fill whatever it is your dark heart needs,” he emphasizes, his hand eerily patting her thigh. Everything in her wants to scream, to wrench his hand off and break his wrist in half. It’s not like when Jughead tried to get her to stay, it’s not tender, not desperate. Although it is a promise of a  _threat_.

Chic tilts his head at her. “You want to be a good girl, don’t you?” Betty wills herself not to flinch, slowly simmering the glare building within her.

_He’s trying to go dom on you, Betty. He wants to know if you like it. He wants you to like it, to hate it, to do whatever he says._

Not even sure what she’s going to say until it’s out of her mouth, she stares him down. “I don’t know, _Chic_ , you’ve been a pretty naughty boy. Murdering a drug dealer, framing my mother, and blackmailing me into giving you a character reference. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you _wanted_ to be _punished_.”

Chic laughs, and the sound grates her teeth almost to the point of chipping them. Sobering, he watches her closely, tightly gripping her thigh for one more second. “You know what to do. And if you don’t…” Suddenly Chic backs off, scooting back and standing up. “I’d be happy to give you some _direction_.”

His hand shifts suddenly into her hair and he pulls, hard. The pain is so sudden and sharp that she sees black stars. Her outcry only enflames his wide smirk. “Think of Alice, Betty. We wouldn't want to send her this pretty little scalp of yours, would we?”

Everything is still black, still roaring in her ears, when her elbow shoots out into his gut. As he winces, still taking in a breath, Betty shoves her palm into his face, knocking him back. Pure adrenaline rushes through them in the mad dash for a struggle, and his hands go for her throat. Instinct takes over and Betty pushes all her body weight on Chic, trying to pin him against her desk. His forehead shoots towards her, slamming her head into the glass mirror behind it. The shattering collision stuns her for a second, millions of broken reflections of her reality distracting her from Chic’s punches and attempted chokehold.

She can’t even hear what he’s saying, his face scrunched in a messy, drooling, desperate sneer, and she wonders if this is the last thing his drug dealer saw before he died…except then it was in her kitchen, not her pastel dream of a bedroom.

Shifting her legs up, Betty pushes Chic away with her knees, trembling with the effort. He cackles a little in her face, clearly enjoying this for a just the briefest of moments.

_I can be crazy too, Chic._

Betty’s teeth clench down on his grabby wrist. Chic’s grunt in frustration is met with another maneuver, Betty snatching a shard of the mirror behind her and thrusting upwards.

Suddenly Chic is scrambling, desperately trying to keep Betty’s callused hands away from him. She’s used to bleeding palms and fingers, not phased even as she feels the warmth oozing out from her thumb around her determined thrust. Whether it’s his or hers, they keep moving, struggling, as it floods over the points they meet.

“We’re the same,” Chic warns through pants, still trying to grasp the nearby lamp—his latest murder weapon of choice. That voice—that _thing_ —that’s what the Black Hood had said.

With the crazy tunnel vision clouding her judgment, Betty does the only thing she can think of and releases the hand he’s trying to reach for the lamp with, shoving her thumb right into his eye socket. He howls in pain. With a swift kick to the chest, he’s tumbling back, and Betty grabs her lamp before he can, thrusting it against his head once, watching with wide, horrified eyes, as he sprawls onto her carpet.

This isn’t the first time blood’s spattered her floors, but Betty can’t help but feel like all the breath has been knocked out of her. She can’t hear anyone, anything right now. The entire void within her feels like it’s crawling with thousands of spiders, thick hairy tarantulas screaming, “ _We knew you were one of us, Betty. You are one crazy murderer._ ”

* * *

 

Betty’s shaking, barely registering when Jughead finally arrives. “Oh my god,” he says, shocked, eyes wide as they shift from his bruised sweetheart to the fantasy entrepreneur. A semi-bloody Chic sits duct taped to Polly’s desk chair, half-conscious and glowering at the Serpent entering the room.

“I don’t know what to do, Jug,” Betty whispers, reaching for him and drawing herself back, afraid that if her hands touch him he’ll be tainted. As if reading her mind, Jughead grabs her hands immediately, kissing her fingers and pulling her close to hold her. Supporting the back of her neck, Jughead feels Betty shift upwards, pressing her wet lashes against his throat.

“Betty, what happened? What can I do?”

She shifts against him, molding her body to his, the pressure calming her.

“It’s fine, Jug. I’ll call the police in a minute…I just, I needed to talk to you.”

“Of course,” he murmurs, gently smoothing her brow. His breath hitches in his throat, watching her big worried eyes fix on his. “What is it?”

Those eyes flicker between his. “Chic…he recorded us. Me. That night.”

Jughead’s brow furrows, not comprehending. “Not—“

“Yes,” she says firmly, her grip tightening. “Apparently he had something hooked up to the webcam app to save the call to a secret folder so he could blackmail me later…or something,” she finishes, glancing between the men in her room. “He’s not…he’s not my real brother, Jug.”

The room whirls in the background, and Jughead has to fight to keep his focus on standing upright and not pummeling the sick freak next to them. “What…the… _fuck?”_ he breathes, absolutely disgusted. He’s not sure he’s ever been this ready to kill someone before. 

“I just…I don’t know if he sent the video to anyone else, and since you’re _in_ it, I wanted to talk to you before I got the police.”

Jughead slides his fingers through his hair, nodding, jaw tight. “Yeah. Good idea.” His fist winds back, whirling forward to crash into Chic’s jaw. The surge of power feels like only a sliver of justice.

Mildly taken aback, she touches his arm. “Jug—what are you doing?”

Adrenaline moves through him, ready to strike again. “Making him talk. What did you do with those videos, you sick bastard?”

But Betty isn’t even looking at Chic. Her eyes are trained on Jughead, the way tension is rippling through his brow, down through his jaw, all the way to his curled fist. It slams against Chic again, blood spattering across her carpet. She imagines Jughead’s power wrapped around her, focused on her in anything but anger.

She tries to shake off the prickly feeling running through her spine, assuming it’s partially due to the adrenaline surging through both of them.

“I didn’t send it…yet,” Chic grins, licking the blood from his freshly cut lip. “Or maybe I did. You’ll never be able to tell.” The red garish grin mocks them, and suddenly Betty moves forward, hand grabbing Chic’s throat to force him to look her right in the eyes.

_He has the eyes of a shark. How did I not see this before? Or maybe I didn’t want to…_

_Is this what I look like when I go dark?_

“I’m going to give you one chance, Chic. One chance to come clean.” Swallowing, Betty’s eyes flash with hunger for that ever-elusive truth buried beneath.

_What do I do if he doesn’t?_

Sensing her hesitancy, Chic narrows his eyes. “Or what?”

“I’ll have you arrested for child porn,” she decides, gritting her teeth, tightening her grip. Chic and Jughead look at her in surprise. “I’m under 18, Chic. Distributing or even secretly recording pornographic material of me is against the law. I know better than to think you care about anything other than yourself—and guys with that charge get eaten _alive_ in prison.”

Chic’s lip quivers with just a moment of something close to fear. “You think I can’t handle it? That I haven’t handled it before?”

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” Betty glares, trying to soften her grip. “You tell the police the truth, help my mom get dismissed of charges, and delete everything your sick mind may have stored away, and you can leave this family forever none the wiser after you serve your time—assuming you don’t get off for self-defense.”

With a grimace, Chic leans back. It’s not a yes, but it’s not a no. He’s thinking. “You have no way to prove that I took those videos of you, Betty. And I don’t think your _boyfriend_ will want anyone looking at the evidence, including that rugged sheriff in town.”

Taking a deep breath, Betty backs up and turns to Jughead. His eyes light up in anxiety, but he stays still, ready to fight for her, to hold her, whatever she needs. Shaking her head subtly, she lets her voice fall as flat as she can. “That memory belongs to me and Jughead. Neither you nor the sheriff should have any part of it.” Chic’s soft chuckle floats out behind her.

“But I’m not ashamed of what I did,” she says carefully, gaze flickering from the standalone mirror and her Jughead, who narrows his eyes in confusion. “I wanted to be with Jughead. I wanted to see what else was out there. I was humiliated and rejected after baring myself to the person I cared about the most, so I took back that power in the only way I knew how—the way you showed me.” The image of Betty in the standalone mirror isn’t fractured. She looks just the same as ever. Same girl-next-door. With the budding bruises and blood on her face from her fight with Chic, maybe she looks a little tougher than normal. But still. Those would fade, and she’d go back to looking like vanilla milkshake Betty Cooper.

“And maybe that’s okay, to find an outlet for your pain. But not when it _hurts_ people, Chic. You could be writing, editing, making music, throwing parties, and instead you chose lies, drugs, and _murder!”_

Chic still looks amused.

“What?” she snaps, turning from the mirror.

“Is that what your gangster boyfriend does? Write poetry? Make movies? Maybe. Before he got that jacket,” Chic observes, noting Jughead’s building intensity. “But you can bet he’ll be pushing soft drugs within the year. Using within five.” Betty’s fingernails scratch the insides of her palms, willing herself not to let it bother her. “He’ll _definitely_ be hurting people, Betty. But that’s okay with you, isn’t it? Your mobster best friend is _fine_ because she puts on parties and brushes your hair at slumber parties. How long until one of them snaps and murders someone, Betty? How long until _you_ snap? What makes what I did any less okay than what they do, what they’re _going_ to do every day?”

“I don’t know,” Betty shivers, shaking.

She’s vaguely aware of Jughead entreating, “Betty.” That vulnerability, that tenderness, normally it would warm her up, bring her closer to feeling whole. But right now everything weighs down with the inevitability of falling apart.

Her fingers dial the sheriff’s office and sniffling, she opens her mouth. “Sheriff Keller? I need you to come to my house. Chic attacked me…and…” her eyes whisk over the angry boy duct taped to her sister’s chair.

“I think he needs help.”

Jughead’s eyes widen, turning to her. Even Chic seems a little begrudgingly surprised.

 

* * *

 

Letting her tongue scrape the remains of Adderall from the roof of her mouth, Betty focuses in on the thumbnails scrolling past her screen for a trace of anything familiar. Normally she just flushes or hides the medication so her mother doesn’t know she’s not taking it, but this seemed like the perfect time to stay up all night on the internet. Jughead shifts next to her, letting out an uncomfortable sigh. “Doesn’t this bother you?”

“What?” she asks, distracted.

“This…revenge porn stuff. It feels like such an invasion of privacy.”

An eerie sense of determined coldness settles in her chest. He shifts down under her blank wide gaze. “I have to find it, Jug…if it even exists.”

“It exists, Betty. We just don’t know where else it is besides your laptop, and the cops said they found a few on Chic’s. But the one of us…the one… _explicit_ ,” he says carefully, hand massaging the place her neck meets her shoulder, “video, should be safe.”

The click of keywords “blonde” and “teen” bring up _thousands_ of results. She’d feel sick if she wasn’t so focused. She can’t bring herself to use the terms “underage” or “amateur.” It feels demeaning. She’s not too young to be having sex. She’s too young to have it be broadcasted on the internet. How could there be so many people like Chic in the world? People who abuse the privacy of a relationship? People so spiteful they rip apart the memories and control of people involved?

“Betty, it’s okay. Even if something does come out, I’m here for you,” Jughead sighs, pressing his thumb harder against a tension knot in her shoulder. His face is a little wearier than normal, but reeks of minor desperation to just let it go and fall asleep. It reminds her of when they tried to stay up decoding the Black Hood’s note. The memory makes her swallow against bile.

Invested in the screen, she doesn’t realize Jughead is gently moving her laptop to the side until it’s already halfway off he lap.

“No—“ she starts, already reaching for it, fingers carefully apart to avoid reopening her scars.

“Betty, you’re okay. It’s okay. You’re safe, for now.” His lips press against her fingers, brow, cheek, and ear, murmuring affirmations against her skin. A constant anxiety keeps thrumming under her skin, just waiting for the other shoe to drop. She groans against him, closing her eyes and clutching him closer.

“I need…I need a sense of control,” she says softly, feeling him readjust to look at her face. His mouth presses firmly, sweetly against her neck. The tingly sensation returns, the thrums focusing on the spot he warmed for her. “I want to watch it.”

Surprised, he gazes up at her with wonder. “What?”

She hopes he can understand this…this need to understand herself…to study it…to _see_ it for herself. His arms stay loosely wrapped around her, his leg a back rest as she pulls the file open. The gulp in his throat is audible, but Betty just squeezes his thigh reassuringly and presses play.

She watches, fascinated, studying herself as she appears on the screen, begging Jughead to look at her.

_Is that…what I sound like?_

She’s familiar with the way she looks. Her room is littered with mirrors, her mother’s hope that she’d take her appearance more seriously with constant reminders that _everyone watches the perfect family_. The camera lens is just another mirror…one that captures more than her mirror can.

She sounds _powerful,_ breathy, strong, and yearning. Even in Jughead’s dark trailer, the light falls on her just enough to accentuate the gold flecks of her hair. Her eyes flicker to her pink lips, bitten red, and the other lips that follow, pried apart by her fingers. Even though it’s mildly off-putting to hear the wet sounds of plying her flesh, the hairs on the back of her neck stand to attention hearing Jughead’s yearning on the other end of the camera, deep breaths, the sound of him working his own flesh in tandem. Shifting closer to the screen, she’s aware of Jughead’s pulse quickening against her. His eyes flicker cautiously, slowly, from her to the screen, pupils settling into dilation.

Betty inadvertently licks her lips, glancing down at him. There’s no noticeable change, which disappoints her a little bit. Does he not find this arousing? Maybe it’s the situation.

_Of course it’s the situation_ , she reminds herself.

Her attention shifts back to the video, where she’s pleading for him, and she starts when that husky, desire-filled voice of his demands “I’m coming in.” She watches the surprise, hesitancy, and arousal all flicker on her face as he bursts into the room, picks her up, and the effortless way he slides into her, both of them closing their eyes and groaning at the instant gratification.

_He’s so beautiful…_

Her lips open in aquiet gasp. She does what she can to avoid Jughead’s studious gaze across her face, his fingers gently supporting the back of her neck. His thumb strokes her tendons where the anxiety is suppressed, buried deep.

_I don’t want anyone else to feel this way about us. It’s just for us two._

Her eyes flicker closed at the tenderness of his fingers, the only noise in the room their labored moans coming from the computer. The edges of the room fade away. There’s only the screen, the couch they’re sitting on.

“Nothing will ever take you away from me,”Jughead in the video commands dangerously, and Betty’s eyes open to find a couple clinging to each other with abandon, desire threading their bodies together.

“Nothing ever will take you away from me, Betty,” the Jughead beside her whispers against her jawline. “I love you. I…want you. I’m here for you. _Always_.”

_Now_ , she thinks, swallowing her doubt. Jughead _is_ here. She has to trust that he always will be. Even if they fight, even when the corruption splinters the town apart. Jughead’s never been one to break a promise.

His one hand travels up into her hair, massaging her scalp. Leaning back, enjoying the pressure, she threads her fingers through his other hand and brings it to her stomach, letting the warmth settle the tingles building there. They come apart onscreen, whispering “I love you” into each other’s necks. The rest of their chatter is indistinguishable, just embraces, encouragement, kisses. Eventually Jughead moves to the side and they spoon, his face nestled against her neck.

“It’s…this is beautiful, Jug,” Betty whispers. She turns to face him, his stormy eyes trying to figure out what to respond. Her attention shifts momentarily to his lips before pleading with him. “I…I want _you_ to take control…tonight.”

“Betty—“ he starts to protest.

“Juggie,” she finishes, rubbing her cheek against his palm. “I love you. I want this. Tonight. I just want to be with you and forget everything else.”

He looks conflicted. “But…”

“We looked at all the recent uploads, Jug. Thousands of them. The only one that has any meaning to me is the one with you. And even though it would tear me apart if anyone else got to see that side of you—of _us_ —I know we have memories that belong only to us two. I want to make another memory, Jug. I want to make a thousand memories with you.” A pleasantly surprised smirk flickers across his face. Smiling, without even looking at the computer, she shuts it and slides it across the bed to free up the space to turn and face him better.

Caressing a lock of hair behind her ear, Jughead looks at her in earnest. “Betty, we can make memories together the rest of our lives. I want to make sure you’ll be all right _tonight_.”

“So make sure I’m all right,” she teases, licking her lips. Smirking, he shakes his head.

“You’re insatiable.”

The words sting a bit—as if he _doesn’_ t want her all the time. That one day her “dark” desires will be too much—too needy. But sex is a normal part of life. Anxiety swirling in the back of her eyes, Jughead can sense it, and grabs her roughly by the back of the neck and swallows her fear with his kiss—at least for now.

The kisses are slow, lingering at first. She’s not even sure he’s really that into it. Why does he have to be so _gentle_ when she wants it rough? Why can’t she be like Veronica, devouring and demanding what she wants _when_ she wants without feeling embarrassed?

Feeling desperate, she digs her hands into his hair and pulls back, moving with him. He moans against her, annoyed and surprised, moving her into his lap as she puts her full weight on top him. They grind together for a few heated, breathy moments, before Jughead digs his fingers under her shirt and into her hips, forcing her off of him. His eyes are dark, but still contained, when he asks, “Do you still want me to be in control?” Biting her lip, she nods.

Something throbs, pulses between them. Jughead shifts her onto her back, weighing her down with his body, hands pinning her arms against the bed. “You tell me if I need to stop,” Jughead warns, eyebrows raised.

She nods, already arching her hips towards him, desperate to feel him against her. He hesitates, biting his lip, not really sure where to begin.

“Just…follow your instincts,” she breathes, raising her leg to rub against him with her thigh. His eyes nearly roll up into his head, and after taking a deep breath, his eyes snap open with a new determination.

He places a fierce, demanding kiss on her lips, hands shoving up inside her sweater only to yank it off of her as he pulls away.

“Jughead—“ she gasps, suddenly desperate to be laid out bare. She can only glimpse the trail of hair against his skin leading below his waistband. Instinctively, she reaches for its warmth.

His hands shove her wrists back against the bed. “Stay,” he commands, waiting until she manages a small nod. It’s so different from that innocent gaze, his soft lips whispering, Also…” and lurching forward to kiss her, sighing against her when it finally happened, little bubbles of clarity filtering up between them. It’s not even like the bold, desperate, excited attempt to explore each other after the first “I love you’s.” Not as relieved, exhausted as their first time crashing against each other. For a moment Betty is overwhelmed with the endless possibilities before them—sexually and otherwise. So many memories to be made. Journals to be filled. But Jughead’s fingers against her now-bared slit distracts a gasp out of her.

“ _Now_ I have your attention,” he chides, watching her carefully as he strips in front of her. Those blue eyes are absolutely captivating, and she gasps at the eye contact, never broken even as he kisses at her thighs. Her legs quiver at the attention, and when his mouth pauses before her center, she can barely contain herself. His warm breath makes her acutely aware of just how much she wants him, just how wet she already is. 

A moan ripples through her, satisfaction leaking through as he buries his face between her thighs.

“Don’t move,” he reminds her, maneuvering his arms to keep her hips and thighs from crushing him on accident. His licks are languid, torturously slow, then suddenly the pace increases and her hips shoot off the sheets. “Betty,” he warns, smacking his palm on her thigh.

“S—Sorry,” she breathes, turning her head in an attempt to clear the building tension inside of her.

Hesitating, Jughead suddenly moves up, half-commanding, “Wrap your arms around my neck.”

Confused, she obliges. His hands shift, wrapping her thighs around his waist. Before she can ponder too much, his hands are under her bottom and lifting her up. “Hold tight.”

Instinctively, she clings to him, almost giddy when he carries her into the bathroom. “I’ve always wanted to have you here,” he murmurs against her hair.

Biting her lips against a smile, Betty nods. “Take me.”

His fingers tentatively pry at her, and finding her suitably wet, he lifts his hands above his head. Obediently, taking his cue, she lifts his shirt. Her hands go for his neck, but he presses her wrists against the mirrored medicine cabinet behind, the coolness edging against her skin. “No touching unless I say,” he reminds her.

“Yes, Juggie,” she nods breathlessly, already hungry for his lips on her, seeking warmth.

His eyes flicker over her body, appreciating her curves, thumbing over her budding bruises. At a gasp, a wince, his eyes lock onto hers. Biting her lip, she nods for him to continue.

“I want you to enjoy this, Betty. You let me know if anything hurts, okay?”

Nodding, she closes her eyes. More specifically, she’ll only say something if it hurts in a _bad_ way. 

“I want to see you,” his low voice lulls, and immediately her eyelids flicker open, hungry gaze on him.

Careful, but trembling with desire, Jughead traces his fingers across her nipples, tweaking them in his hands. Suddenly his hot mouth is suckling at her, drenching her in desire. Her teeth bite hard into her lips to prevent from moaning too loudly.

“Do you like this, Betty?” he asks, teeth grazing against her puckered nipple.

Moaning, she nods and tries to edge her hips closer to him.

_Why the fuck are his pants still on?_

Grinning, he resumes his attentions to the nipple he’s at, drawing out gasps and the growing wetness between her thighs, no doubt drenching the counter and front of his jeans.

“Fuck—Jug!” she twists in his arms, fingers digging into her palms in an attempt not to touch him.

“Mm, Betty, you were being such a good girl,” he moans against her, face raising to hers. He has the brightest blue eyes, long lashes nearly tickling her cheeks. The fog of desire makes her want to reach forward and suck his wicked tongue. Instead, Jughead digs his hands into her hips. “We need to give you something to do with those hands.”

His tongue flattens against his own palm, fingers quickly tugging at her clit. The intensity makes her wince with need. Just as quickly as he starts, he pulls his hand away. “You think you can do that?”

Surprised, she nods, moving her hand across her stomach. He catches her wrist and shakes his head, gently bringing her fingers to her lips.

_Oh._

Captivated, she locks her eyes on his and licks her fingers, tongue reaching over to suck on one of his for the briefest of moments. His eyes flicker closed for a moment, overwhelmed with desire. His mouth finds hers, quickly, desperate, and before she can get too comfortable he pulls that away too, pushing her hand down where their groins meet.

“You know what to do,” he says breathily, his other hand working at his belt.

As her fingers work, she tries to keep her eyes on Jughead, spurred on by his new intensity. Something electric is passing between them—like when she was dominating Sweet Pea, but with so much more _tenderness_. So much more _history_ …weight… _want_. 

“Juggie—“ she almost-whimpers, getting desperate, wanting him as he pushes his pants down and reveals his throbbing erection. His hair hags low over his forehead as he kicks away the rest of his garments. He absently pushes his hair out of his face before cupping the soft flesh of her throat.

“I want you to cum for me, okay?”

She nods, pushing her neck further against his firm hand. Every sensation is heightened by the newness of it all. The cool mirrored surface at her back. The solid unforgiving vanity beneath her. Jughead’s thumb pushing just a _little_ too hard at her throat.

“You want my dick?” he asks, and she parts her lips, completely aware that she’s nearly panting as she whispers, “Yeah…yeah…I want your dick, Jughead.”

Smirking, he takes his erection in his other hand and snaps it against her slit. She gasps at the contact, stunned, a jolt of pleasure ricocheting through her. Her fingers falter, moving out of the way, waiting, breathless, for the next strike. He seems pleasantly surprised at the results. Angling his head, he makes sure it hits a little harder this time. The jolt makes her knees buckle, and she grasps onto the back of Jughead’s neck just so she doesn’t slide completely into the nearby sink. The chuckle in his chest is throaty, and she can feel his flush against her fingertips. Even he’s biting his lip a little, his fingers moving from her neck down to the underside of her bottom, supporting her a little bit more. Maybe he won’t punish her this time.

“You like that, huh?”

“Yeah,” is all she can muster. “I really like your cock against my wet…” her eyes lock onto his, not sure if she can finish the sentence.

His voice is snappier than normal, like the tension within him is stretched taught like a rubber band. “Say it.”

Narrowing her gaze, she accepts the challenge and says, “Cunt.”

Chuckling, letting out a shaky breath, he admits, “Not what I was expecting, Betts. But I’ll find something to do with that naughty mouth of yours.”

A grin spreads across her lips, making his own eyes light up with delight. His arm wraps around her waist, pulling her hips closer and forcing her shoulders back against the mirrored vanity behind her. He snaps his dick against her again, enjoying the way she squirms in his arms, even as he holds her still. Its head is firm, insistent at her clit, and Betty starts to feel that black-out tension rippling inside of her.

“I’m—I’m close, Jug,” she breathes against his throat, teeth grazing his skin.

It’s almost like he’s painting an orgasm against her clit, writing it with his dick, the insistent swirls of the head gradually making everything in her clench with glee. As soon as he feels her coming undone, jerking against him, he shoves himself entirely within her wet contractions.

“Oh—shit!” she breathes, nails digging into his back, inciting his own echoing curses against her skin. His arms hook under her thighs, pushing her knees almost to her chest so he can get deeper.

Everything is pulsing and full, and this new angle hits something _deep_ and _wonderful_ in her. Sex has been great so far, but it’s never been so jolting nerve-blowing. There are spots beyond the clit and g that are being tantalizingly slapped with each thrust. It’s almost all she can do to just hold on and let the waves of pleasure rush over her. It’s like she’s drowning in a sea of _yes!_ Encouraged, ego flaring, Jughead bites her shoulder, licking the wounds almost as soon as he leaves them.

“Fuck, you’re so wet—so tight for me, Betty,” he murmurs into her shoulder. When she’s able to function, she moves her arms around his shoulders to bring him closer to her upper body. The embrace only lasts a few moments before he pulls back amidst his thrusts, dark hair cascading back across his pale skin and she realizes he’s looking at them in the mirror. The thought of him being enraptured by the sight of them fucking makes her hornier than ever, and she finds herself licking her fingertips and working where their bodies meet. His gaze flickers over to her, dark, heady, as if each second his eyes trail her body it leaves hot and heavy marks across her skin. It does something to her—this possessive hunger. It’s too much. Her face contracts along with her body, the hot pleasure-pain of an orgasm shivering through her at the same time his erratic thrusts jerk into her with full force.

Their cries of shock and desire spill into each other, and she can only barely register the mirror digging into her back because she’s arching so dramatically against him. Nearly squealing, still clenching around him, she can sense that even though he’s spent he’s still a little hard, twitching against the tightness.

Wincing, she breathes against him, aware her nails may have drawn blood. “Juggie—I’m so sorry—are you—“

“That was fucking amazing,” he breathes, shaking the hair out of his eyes without dropping her legs. “Fuck, Betty. I want to paint you like this.”

A disbelieving smile graces her face. “Really? Legs up, flyaway hairs and all?”

Breathless, flushed, he nods. “You’re so beautiful, Betty. You’re so beautiful, and so strong.” His kisses litter her face and neck. Legs forgotten, he gently lowers them to put his hands in his favorite spot to caress against her jaw and she tingles, still aware of his presence inside of her.

Flustered, slowly returning to somewhat normal hormone levels, Jughead takes a breath and looks over the rest of her, gently caressing the skin and looking for any new marks. “You okay?”

“Amazing,” she grins lazily, wincing as he shifts out of her, softening only slightly. “You up for round 2?”

Chuckling, he tucks his chin against his chest, embarrassed. “I know I’m a teenage boy, but I think I need a minute.”

“Take your time,” she sighs contentedly, fingers tracing his biceps.

He places a firm kiss against her skin, treasuring her. The feeling flutters through her chest.

“How…are you _feeling_ okay?” he interrupts himself, blue eyes cloudy with concern.

Licking her lips, she wonders what she could possibly say. “Yes, Juggie.” Her nose nudges against the edge of his, fingers caressing his neck once again. “I will be.”

* * *

 

Jughead climbs into Betty's window some nights, sleeping over until morning when he crawls out to visit her for breakfast or to walk her to school. The trial continues, but just like she sat with him for FP, he sits with her for Alice and Chic, and even nods at her as she takes the stand, ever-present. Veronica feeds her a steady supply of breakfast treats and confidence, Archie reciprocates her wondrous smile with his songs, dances and school functions, and Kevin exercises the beast within by enjoying gossip and running together in the early mornings. Sometimes she'll peter off on her own trail, especially when she catches him slowing down to check out another jogger. On those days she ends up at Jughead's trailer, endorphins singing in her ears as she comforts her boy with her hands, mouth, and whatever else he needs.

When the Serpents let Jughead back in, Betty just takes his hand and asks with big eyes, "Is this what you want, Jug?"

His throat scratchy, he nods. "Yeah."

"Then I'm here for you," she nods, ponytail high and bobbing once again.

Narrowing his gaze, he wonders aloud, "Do you...want to keep camming, Betty?" Her eyebrows raise in surprise, looking around to see if anyone else has heard him. "I mean, I know you were doing it because it helped you escape or have some semblance of control or whatever. Am I...supporting you enough?" Her mouth falls open, unsure what to say. It's like she hasn't even thought about it, when he's thought about it every day. Does she want someone else? Does she need to dominate or be dominated? Or is this...is this enough?

The thought of sharing Betty with anyone is enough to make his knees tremble with rage, wanting to run. But after all she's been through, maybe she still needs to explore. Maybe she wants better than some loner weirdo from the wrong side of the tracks. Or the gang member who tries to do everything himself. Ashamed, Jughead looks away.

"Hey," she says softly, caressing his cheek and pulling his face back to her. "I know it's hard for us...to come clean about what we need. And I know," her eyes wander for a moment, trying to find the right balance of words to use, "That intimacy, that relying on other people is hard for us since they keep running away. But we're not running away from each other again, Jughead. When I need something, I will tell you." He nods, biting his lip, searching her face for any chance she's not telling the truth. Sensing his investigation, she smiles softly and presses a kiss to his lips.

Relived, he breathes against her smile. "So we're pretty ride or die, huh?"

"We ride," she grins a little mischievously. "Besides," she reasons, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck, "If I ever get a taste for something different, I know there are 50 Shades of Jughead I have yet to discover. The Serpent prince, the quiet reader, a construction worker-"

Laughter breaks through him, tilting his head back to give it freedom. His wide smile lights up both of their eyes in joy, and she wiggles on her tip-toes to get closer to him. He licks his lips, placing a wet kiss on her. "I think there's only one Jughead, Betty, but he's all yours."

"Then that's what I need," she affirms, nuzzling into him. Although she knows they're each other's weakness, they're also the source of strength. With Jughead's hand in hers, she never feels the urge to dig her nails in, the urge to command someone to take their clothes off. Sure, they'll get angry and desperate with the awful politics of this town, but Betty feels stronger for it, having explored what she's really capable of. Now they want to keep exploring what  _they're_ capable of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's all she wrote for now folks! Do you want a continuation with the resurgence of the Black Hood or Chic's incarceration? I am writing an alternate Sweet Pea/Betty ending fic for this so feel free to subscribe to my author page or whatever to check in on that eventually. I'm proud of Betty for exploring her demons. UPDATE: [ Swetty one-shot here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16077389)
> 
> They way I see it, Betty and Jughead will continue exploring BDSM and sex in general with each other in an attempt to levy control in the insane world of Riverdale...they're just going to do it with each other as opposed to strangers on the internet haha. What did you think? Comments and kudos always appreciated ^-^ I'm at loveinapastlife on tumblr should you wanna chat over there
> 
> I rewrote this ending like three times...Betty basically will always have this shadow of people abandoning her, but now she knows what she can do to help ease the pain without hurting herself and that makes her feel strong. As far as sex, she feels like she's on a more even playing field with Jughead now. Plus everyone knows Chic filmed her (maybe not ALL the details, but some in the trial including that she's the one who took him down), so she may not be seen as this innocent little girl anymore. She can be herself. Driven. Sexy. Smart. Whatever she feels like. She doesn't need to fix her family. She can't. So she makes a new one with Jughead, and to some extent, her friends. It may be a little messy around the edges, a little unusual, but it's what she needs.


End file.
